


~Forever Forgotten~ A Tale of Scorned Souls

by Forbidden Writers (SmashQ)



Series: Forever Forgotten [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-01-29 15:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 115,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmashQ/pseuds/Forbidden%20Writers
Summary: The pale blue eyes of Mervil scanned the quaint village. How it reminded him of home, his wondrous home. Yet it never would be, it nevercould be.+A crosspost of the Forever Forgotten interactive story from the Exploding Deku Nut/Forbidden Woods Zelda forums from 10 or so years ago, done with permission. Chapters divided by authors.
Series: Forever Forgotten [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543582
Kudos: 4





	1. Section 1.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote Tetra, one of the original writers: "Writing wise and character wise 2 is better and usually less silly[.] But I think 1 is stronger in its overall story arc[.]"
> 
> To quote Zeldaeinstein, the man who started this: "But it is important to note that it is technically a Zelda fan fiction with an expanded universe. No Zelda or Link or Ganondorf or anything. It's one of those tropey stories where there's been a [REDACTED] all along."
> 
> Old contest banner [by DarthCitrus.](https://imgur.com/Zm62Uzg)
> 
> Please keep in mind that on the forums these were posted there was an auto censor that overwrote curse words with *Navi*. There were a few other silly ones, but that was the prominent one.
> 
> And now for even more words from 12 years ago.  
+  
Zeldaeinstein:  
This is the completed First Entry of Forever Forgotten. Edits to earlier parts will be added as they are produced - sparsely. Now for some history. This is a story that I started back in October of 2007, but the idea had been around for quite a while longer (circa 2003). I always meant to try and write the thing out but I never bothered to and eventually it grew old to me. But at the creation of The Golden Land in the same year I began the ambitious plan of creating a Role Playing/Interactive story out of it. That way I was able to get a fresh light from other members and give the story a chance. This is the result of that, I'm happy to present this story to you of the Forbidden Woods. Enjoy.
> 
> [Banner courtesy of contest winner, Leftironboot.](https://www.deviantart.com/theamishpiscodemon/art/A-scorned-cover-193947859)
> 
> ~Section One~  
Author: Zeldaeinstein

This was familiar. It always happened; there was nothing to deny or to defy. It was always on cue. The dream was simple: he was lost among a mist so thick it was as if it were eternal and never to lift. Shadows flitted past him while whispers absorbed his ears with harsh, inaudible tongues. And then, in the far reaches of sight, that's where he, better yet, _it_ stood. So far away, so close, it was impossible to tell. Glowing red eyes drifted through the fog that was suffocating him. A deep and guttural laugh followed perfectly in-tune with those of flighty shadows that surrounded their master. The distance was so large that their cackles echoed but so close he could feel their breath fall upon his face. This was hell. This was that Nightmare.  
  
Mervil awoke in a cold sweat. Thoughts going back to his unconscious self faded and he quickly forgot everything he had just experienced, as usual. He lay in silence in a shabby old house, abandoned for years on the very outskirts of this land, no one knew he was there; that was the way he liked it. Brushing the thick black hair away from his eyes, he arose from his dirty cot fully clothed in a ragged black cloak. Today was his bimonthly excavation to the nearby village down the mountainside. He would quickly purchase what he needed before the mass majority of villagers awoke. He was more of a mystery than flesh and blood to them. He preferred being alone, being hounded by others would only serve to test his patience, of which he had hardly enough for afternoon leaf juice.  
  
Cold winds were tracing the hillside Mervil called home. Touching lightly against his lengthy scar, he shuddered and clotted his fading robe tightly around his tall frame. His humble abode was only two rooms large; holes in the walls and ceilings of each room did not make it comfortable in the slightest. A kitchen with a grimy and rusted pot belly stove was to his left, the bed chamber where he now stood led outback, literally into another kingdom. Built perfectly, Mervil did not belong to any land. He lived right on the border of Kingdoms where he enjoyed neutrality. But this Hyrule place he'd rather call his true dwelling more than anywhere else; that is, if it were not for his memories impeding him of embracing it as a homestead.  
  
Bundling up a good sack of rupees, he dispatched into the dawning light, the village resting far below. A long trek was ahead and it was in high hopes it was going to be worth it. Mervil had gone three days without food to ensure he did not break his strict schedule with the shopkeeper. Beyond the scattered monsters and brigands, distractions or opportunities for delays were very few. For many earned reasons however, the wild creatures kept their distance from his main trail. That certainly wasn't hated.  
  
Kakariko Village was a grand place compared to his horrid home, he could easily afford a room at the Inn for many years, but he wasn't going to show any loyalties or take any luxuries away from the others. It would also mean dealing with townspeople. These folk were some of the most jovial he had come across in his travels, it both lifted a long lost kindred spirit inside but also dampened his mood as other graves in his mind were overturned. Lost in thought, Mervil finally came across the ravaged sign barely visible among the thick morning mist. Noting the peculiar absence of time and his tendency to lose track of it, he set aside the strangely short journey as nothing more than a welcomed leave of monotony. Reassigning his bearings and adjusting his patched cloak, Mervil took a few more steps before another diversion stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"Well, who do we have here?" the snide voice of a man came from behind a dislodged boulder. It likely belonged to someone involved with the group of bandits and brigands Mervil heard about many times on his travels through Kakariko. They had once been a small nuisance but were gaining numbers as well as courage to make attempts at raiding smaller satellite towns. Mervil turned and the money he had on his person made an arrangement of greedy tones.  
  
"A misshapen straggler, eh? It certainly seems you aren't terribly poor. You could have fooled me by one look at ya," a second voice came from the nearby terrain, causing a stir of laughter in the first man. Two shadows came bearing arms from what seemed to be thin air thanks to the relentless fog. They were going to try to rob him.  
  
_How predictable. How laughable. _  
  
"How about we make a deal? You give us everything in your pockets and we won't kill you. Does that sound nice?" no reply would be wasted on them, only a smile as he continued to walk. "You've got guts to do that man, aren't you afraid? See normally people don't bring the old Reaper on themselves, it's usually not that pleasant I've heard."  
  
_No, it certainly isn’t._ The taller of the two gruff looking men laughed and unsheathed a small dagger, waving it back and forth. “Just play nice and I won’t have to make a formal introduction to your throat, if you catch what I’m saying.”  
  
This threat hadn’t worked either. Mervil continued on his way, watching the first rays of the Sun break over the mountainside in their futile attempts to burn away the mist. Warm air filled his lungs, making him smile even more smugly for he could smell the exotic rose gardens of the village in their waning days. Today seemed ripe with nostalgia and its bitter aftertaste, didn’t it?  
  
“Are you deaf?” the shorter of the two bandits stepped forward to block his way along the winding road. “Give us your money!” he too revealed his weapon and held it steady in front of him, his face twisting in doubt or fury, it was impossible to tell from the light shining around him.  
  
“That’s it, enough waiting!” his taller comrade shoved him out of the way and lunged forward with his rusted weapon. _A wrong move if I ever saw one..._  
  
Mervil darted to the left with a grace even he thought had left his body long ago; the looks of surprise at the stumbling men supported his findings. He pulled back his hood and appraised them with his icy blue stare, waiting for one of them to try to pursue. This time the apparent toady tried to rush him, only to nearly fall into brambles as Mervil swept his path even farther to the left.  
  
“Enough games! If it’s a fight you want, then fight!”  
  
“If you wish,” Mervil spoke with a dry throat, his voice raspy from the winds at his home and from very little use. He made quick motions with his exposed left hand and both bandits yelped as their weapons were charmed out of their hands. Stepping toward the disarmed men, Mervil had to stifle a chuckle as they took alarmed paces backwards. He lifted his gloved right hand high. Searing flames slithered from his open palm and formed into a sinister looking weapon. Almost immediately the two bandits began to attempt to run away, stopping short as a wall of fire encircled the three of them. The blazing heat was siphoning their will to flee or to fight back.  
  
Mervil ignored their frightened looks, their sudden change for a request of pity; he was not going to put up with this idiocy, this shameless lying. The flaming weapon he summoned, currently in his form of choice, a long scythe, hung by his torso, casting an eerie orange glow around his feet. He threw his sack of rupees onto the quickly drying cliff edge, the curtains of mist being blown apart for many feet in every direction thanks to his spell.  
  
"L- Look, guy, w-we didn't mean to make you angry. We...we were just," the taller outlaw was shivering from fright, an expected and overdue reaction. Behind him the smaller one seemed entranced by his own fear, simply staring up in shock at nothing in particular.  
  
"You were just trying to rob an innocent bystander out on his walk? I can’t seem to grasp the idea of how what you have to say even matters. Especially if you believe it will grant you _my_ hesitation,” the Cloaked Man observed beads of sweat trickle down the brows of those opposite, their faces red from heat and flustered emotions, their faces patterned in black from ashes and cinders. Although bound to their humanity and temptations, they would still need to reap what they had sown.  
  
“I don't think this is going to teach either of you a lesson in the slightest," Mervil's calm voice was like ice. His glare seemed to read them to the very soul, making the men uncomfortable and feeling naked and ashamed. "Souls such as yours aren't worthy to bear the bounties of life. The penance you owe your fellow man acts as a considerable weight upon your shoulders. I think you've caused enough harm for a lifetime, haven't you?" he stepped forward, causing the two men to turn around quickly and brave running through the wall of flames. Mervil merely shook his head and used his free hand to trace another action through the air. A gaping precipice opened up among the earth, stopping the criminals in their tracks lest they fall to their deaths.  
  
Fear crossed their vision once more as the strange man approached them, not paying heed as flames licked across his exposed face. His flaming scythe cast an evil glow across his torso, lighting up an ugly long scar that trailed down the right side of his face to his covered shoulder. Without hesitation or flinching from either party, Mervil pulled back and hacked one time across both of the men’s chests, burning through their clothes and into their flesh. It was like branding cattle. They cried out as they fell to the ground, still alive and marked, their skin crackling in despair and blackened regret.  
  
"Take this as my lesson, those who bear souls that are not righteous, souls that are bloodied, I will not cease until they are destroyed. You have been cleansed, take your past knowledge and use it well; you do not get a chance to be marked twice," Mervil made a cutting motion with both arms, suddenly causing all of his magic to disappear in a flash finale. “Now run. Run back to your homes and tell your families what has happened to you and why you deserved it. Run back to your friends and explain your evil virtues and beg for their good will. Run back to your fellow bandits and warn them with your bloodied bodies that if I hear of another incident between brigands and innocent townsfolk, I will flush all of you out.”  
  
The two bandits fled, holding their tattered garments to their chests. They had even left their weapons behind. Although they would not catch the highest price, Mervil still gathered them into his rupee satchel to sell. At least the Villagers could find some use of the blades. Looking into the distance, he could barely see the two running men, their cries, however, were still fresh in their shrill pain. Mervil returned his hood over his thick and unkempt hair before finally entering town, no one knowing of what had just occurred.  
  
The Bazaar was completely on the opposite side of town, but that was no concern, he wouldn't be seen at this time of day by anyone of importance or gall to approach him. But off in the Inn, someone was looking out, the same girl who watched him each day he would enter town upon the same clockwork schedule he followed, trying to figure out his purpose or if he had one at all. She disappeared as he cocked his head slightly in that direction for no particular reason. The pale blue eyes of Mervil scanned the quaint village. How it reminded him of home, his wondrous home. Yet it never would be, it never _could be_. His soul yearned. The cries went unheard within his well accustomed deaf mind, and he continued with his business.


	2. Section 1.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author: Blue55

Tap was sitting on the thick branch of an old oak tree, happily munching on a luscious green apple, legs swaying to and fro. She was facing a rather large lake covered with autumn leaves. Surrounding her were the sounds of the forest, crickets and cicadas chirping nosily, squirrels jumping from branch to branch, trees rustling with the wind. Her reflection greeted her from far below, her blazing red tunic and cap contrasted by her dark hair and eyes.

Tap finished off her apple and tossed the remaining core into the lake, watching the ripples spread far. It was only about half an hour ago when she’d decided to break for lunch. Having finished her meal of bread, a slice of dry cheese, and an apple, she made herself comfortable and slumped back on the branch, deciding that after a quick nap she’d continue on with her journey. Her journey of retrieving her lost memories, starting with hunting down the black hooded figure, the only person she could remember, and interrogating him. She felt like it was a harmless pursuit, minus all the danger and sweating.

It’s a depressing situation really, when one can’t recall who on earth he or she is. There’s a feeling of hopelessness and confusion. A feeling similar to Tap’s. Heck, she didn’t even know her own name. The name Tap had been given to her by her rescuer and only friend she knew of, Xanath, as a result from her habit of tapping when she became nervous or excited. All this was racing through her head while white clouds drifted lazily along with her day.

When she was finally able to quiet her mind, she felt the feeling of sleep overcome her. The warm sun embracing her slightly tanned skin was making her drowsy and she let out a great yawn. She tossed her long red bow and bag of arrows onto the ground below, making more room for herself, and rolled onto her stomach, resting her head on her arm and letting her other arm dangle freely from the branch. She’d only been asleep for a few minutes when the sound of two men shouting from a distance startled her into consciousness. Curious as to what the men were arguing about, she sat up and strained her ears to listen in on their conversation.

“This was all your fault, you idiot!” the smaller one said to the other. He looked badly injured, though not as much as his partner. Both had on poorly washed clothes, which were badly torn at the torso. Blood had seeped through the bandage, which was feebly tied around the wound.

“My fault?! It was your idea to attack that freaky black cloaked guy!” Freaky blacked cloaked guy? Could they be talking about the man from Tap’s memories? She leaned further in the direction of the two. Bad move. Tap went crashing down into the hard ground below, both startling and drawing the attention of the men. Totally red with embarrassment, she scrambled to her feet, dusted herself off and leaned against the tree, arms crossed, as if that humiliating (and painful) event did not just happen. The men looked at each other for a moment and burst out into laughter. “What the hell is wrong with her?” laughed the taller one to the other.

“I have no idea!” responded the shorter one. “Maybe she thinks she’s one ‘a them cuccoos and was trying to fly!” Tap, clearly not amused with their horrible sense of humour, decided to leave before things got too extreme. She went to gather up her things, namely her bow, arrows, and pack of food, but was intercepted by the taller man. “Hey, wat’cher got there, kid?” he turned to his partner who was still snickering. “Hey, Railin, go see what stuff this person’s got!”

“Oh yeah, yeah, sure thing, Kaz!” Railin went over to Tap’s belongings and picked up her bow. “Well look at this!” exclaimed Railin, giving the bow a good look over. “This thing is in really good condition. Looks kinda neat, too,” he handed the bow over to Kaz. “You’re right,” agreed Kaz. “Hey, how much you think this’d sell for, ya think?”

“Uh, excuse me,” said Tap, boldly approaching the guys, “that’s not for sale.” She held out her hand, hoping they’d get a hint and give her back her bow. Instead, Railin went and grabbed some of Tap’s arrows.

“This is just what we need,” he said. “Thank you for these weapons,” he and Kaz turned to walk away, snickering amongst themselves, but Tap walked up in front of them, blocking their path.

“See, that’s the thing,” said Tap, fighting to keep the tone of her voice pleasant. “Those are my weapons. I’d like them back, now,” once again, she held out her hand. Kaz looked down at Tap and glared, eyes seething with anger.

“Look, girlie, I’ve been having a bad day, and I’m in no mood for your crap. So I suggest you get the hell outta my way before I kill you,” before Tap could respond, he smacked her on the head, knocking her to the ground. Stunned, Tap looked up at her attacker, eyes wide open, the cheek that was hit, stinging harshly. For a moment, everyone was still. Then, Tap slowly got up, hands and teeth clenched tightly.

“You…you jerk!” yelled Tap, eyes watering. “You stupid jerk! That's my stuff! Gimme back my stuff!” she pushed Kaz roughly and in return got a push back from Kaz.

“Sorry, little girl, but these are my things now,” Kaz jeered. “So get lo-,“ before he could finish his sentence, he found himself pinned to the ground, a 9-inch dagger at his throat. Panic began to fill poor Kaz’s little heart, as he realized the little girl had tackled him.

“You better freaking give me back my stuff,” Tap said, filled with fury. Kaz groaned. Once again he was about to suffer a near death experience.

“Okay. Okay fine, you win. You can have your stuff. Just…get off of me.”

“You promise you’ll give it back?” asked Tap suspiciously.

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Drop it.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Drop my stuff. Then I’ll get off,” Kaz glared at her for what seemed like an eternity, then threw the bow as far as he could (which wasn’t really far actually, considering the fact that he was lying on the ground). Tap smacked him on the face then got up to retrieve her bow. Once again, another bad move. As soon as she got off he kicked the dagger out of Tap’s hand, tossing it into the air and caught it.

“Railin, let’s go!” he yelled. Turning to Tap, he said “Thanks for the knife,” in mock gratitude and they both started running through the woods.

“Hey! Come back here!” shouted Tap. “You promised!” she wouldn’t be able to catch up with them now; they had a big head start, surprising Tap by knocking the dagger out of her hand. Picking up her bow, she put an arrow in place and concentrated on aiming for them both. Back in her training with Xanath, she’d learned that if she concentrated hard enough to aim at more than one person, her arrow would multiply in a single shot and would pierce through thousands. It was quite shocking for Tap when she’d first discovered this handy trick of hers as she was using trees for her targets, and she’d wondered how on earth she was able to do that. As time passed, she decided that it was just something else she’d have to learn about herself. Maybe there were even more powers buried away with all her fragmented memories.

So with a twang of her bow, the arrow split into two and sped after the two thieves. Upon hearing an odd whizzing sound, they looked back and saw too late the arrows after them. The force of the arrow was enough to pin them back into one of the many trees surrounding them. Wincing in pain, Kaz dropped the dagger. Tap walked over to them and picked up the dagger. “You see what happens when you steal?” she lectured. “You get hurt!” she sheathed the dagger and attached it back to her belt. Then she began to pull the arrows out of the tree, freeing them. As soon as Railin had been freed, he ran as fast he could away from Tap. Kaz, who was more in a state of shock, just stood there  
.  
“What, aren’t you going to keep us trapped here?” asked Kaz in amazement.

“Hmm?” replied Tap absentmindedly. “Now why would I do something like that?” she began digging in her pack for some fresh new bandages. “I know it’s in here somewhere…”she muttered. “Oh, there we go!” she pulled out a first aid kit. “Okeydokey, let’s get you all fixed up!” she grabbed the front part of what was left of Kaz’s shirt and the bandage and ripped it off. She then proceeded to apply some type of red healing ointment on the cut on his abdomen and the pierce on his shoulder, wrapping up the two wounds with fresh clean bandages.

Kaz was astounded. Never in his life had a stranger ever cared for him. Actually, he couldn’t recall anyone in his life that had ever cared for him. He looked into Tap’s eyes and saw nothing but compassion.

“Why are you helping me? I don’t deserve this. I’m a thief. A bandit. I could easily kill you right now,” he slowly got up but was shoved back down by Tap.

“But you can’t, can you?” replied Tap, a mischievous look in her eyes. “Heck, I could take all you have and ditch you right here! But I wouldn’t do that. Nope, I’m way too nice for that,” she got up and dusted herself off. “Well, it’s time for me to get going now. Have fun and enjoy life,” she picked up her things and walked off in the direction of Kakariko.

Kaz sat there for the longest time, just thinking about what’d happened. Then he got up and started along the same path as the strange girl. His curiosity was getting the better of him.


	3. Section 1.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author: Yazstromo

"Fish are curious creatures. They're covered in scales, breathe water, and taste delicious when cooked. Want some?" the man, tired and starving, gratefully accepted Yazstromo's offer of food. Watching him devour the fish, Yazstromo decided to inquire a little more into the curious day the man had just undergone. "So, first a cloaked man whips out a flaming scythe and gave you that nasty scratch on your chest. Then, some savage girl pinned you to a tree with an arrow. That sound about right?" Railin nodded, the memories of the past day fresh in his mind. "Then you ran for about an hour, afraid that if you stopped, someone else would get you. I suppose that explains the screaming when you ran into me..."

Yazstromo grinned and picked up a vial filled with a light-blue liquid. "Now, Mr. Railin, I want you to make sure you have a swig of this every few hours for the next two days. That should stop the bleeding, but I'm afraid that scar is going to be permanent. I guessed as much when I heard what sort of weapon made that mark. If a scythe doesn't sound like a cursed weapon, then a flaming scythe definitely does," Railin looked at the vial, then up at Yazstromo.

"Well, now, that's mighty kind of you, mister. Say, you wouldn't happen to have a little money you could spare, seeing how that scythe guy took mine?" Yazstromo, still smiling, reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bag of rupees.

"I'm afraid this is all I've got on me at the moment, though I can easily conjure up a little more. So, I suppose you may as well have it," he tossed Railin the money, then leaned back and pulled out a pipe. "So Mr. Railin, how long have you been a bandit for?"

Railin froze, a flicker of surprise passing over his face. He looked up hesitantly, before Yazstromo caught his eye. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to attack you or anything. I myself have nothing against people others would consider unsavoury. Everyone has to make a living somehow. I just noticed the greed in your eyes when I mentioned that I can conjure up some money, and got the impression you were about to use force against me. I felt I should warn you against that particular course of action," a spear then materialised and plunged itself into the ground beside Yazstromo, who was busy lighting his pipe.

At this point, Railin was shivering, his eyes desperately searching for an escape route. "I think it's time for me to get going...I lost a friend of mine to that girl...he's probably worried sick...I just..." still smiling, Yazstromo got up, cracking his neck.

"Well, then, I suppose we should go find him, then. I hope that girl didn't hurt him too badly."

Railin looked at Yazstromo, puzzled. "So, you're not going to hurt me?"

Chuckling, Yazstromo began packing up his things, his long white beard swaying dangerously over the coals. "Weren't you listening? I don't mind robbers, so long as they've got the sense not to rob me. And I'm fairly certain you won't be trying to rob me any time soon. Now, before we move, I say we figure out where we're going," Yazstromo pulled out a leather pouch, reaching in and grabbing a small spoon covered in magical symbols. He threw it at the ground, and in a flash of smoke, a large map appeared.

"So, you last saw him over at this little wooded area...well, if he's still alive after being viciously assaulted, common sense dictates that he'd head to the nearest town, which according to this map is Kakariko Village. I think that sounds as good a place to start as any," Yazstromo looked up at Railin, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "We're going on an adventure, Railin!"


	4. Section 1.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Link64Master/Hylian Cookie  
2010 MAJOR EDIT AND REWRITE BY: Zeldaeinstein

It would have been a terrifying sight if it were not the middle of the day. Wandering under the beating Sun, a creature of the night was unabashed, freely moving without a care. A Stalfos, a reanimated skeleton, armed with a large shield and jagged sword, ignored the dangers of being spotted; his mission was far too important. In the land of Hyrule, he was nothing, a monster. But that did not mean that he was without any ‘earthly’ or ‘goodhearted’ thoughts. He was a soldier, one that fought for the wrong side, seeking out the most pure of goals.

Galysses was his name, traversing the rolling hills of Hyrule. Once a Stalfos Soldier, Galysses admonished his less than honourable status long ago. It had been many years of travel until he finally returned to Hyrule, a campaign having taken him far away on other business. His father, first cursed to be a Stalfos, had long been dead, killed by an unknown assassin. Despite the journey being long, the ability to bring vengeance for his father’s killer, Galysses still pushed forward. Now his thinning trail of information was leading him to a village at the base of the infamous Death Mountain.

He was unsure of the direction, deciding to set down his rigid sword and rounded shield by a lake to take a rest from the unusual Autumn heat. He stared down in the lake for what seemed like forever, staring at his icy cold stare and his boney face, wondering, questioning who and what he was, and where he was headed. The life of a Stalchild, as strange as reproduction for his species was, brought many unsure thoughts and discomforts in the middle of his dreams.

As quickly as he had retired, voice began to carry from somewhere in the distance. It sounded like two males, one old and raspy, while the other was young and had a bizarre accent. The tall frame of Galysses picked up his things, and approached the strangers. Carefully and slowly, he walked, catching bits of information on what they were talking about. Years trailing carts to spook and steal from the drivers had trained him very well, even in the daylight.

"All I'm saying is," the younger one said to the other. "Is that I don't know who she was. She just fell out of a tree, like a cucoo with a broken wing."

"Hmm," the older one said. He looked quite wise. "She must be someone who is mischievous, always watching from the sidelines," his sentence was stopped. "What was that, by the lake, did you hear it?"

"Yazstromo, I didn't hear anything. It was probably the wind blowing the leaves or something," the young one said. "C'mon, lets just go, I need to find Kaz before that crazy girl does something to him."

"No, Railin, it wasn't the wind," Yazstromo said. "Something is there, I saw it. It had clear white texture; it was the arm of something. I am going to check it out"

"Ok, just hurry back; we really don’t have time for this.”

Yazstromo quietly tapped his companion on the shoulder, his eyes wide with what looked to be surprise and possibly fear. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got a little bone to pick.”

“What?” Railin turned around to see the towering Stalfos following them a few dozen feet behind. His heart lurched into this throat, but he had to show he had some sort of spine, he had already been embarrassed enough being such an open book to his older ‘friend’. “Just ignore it, I-I think it’s just confused or something,” what was he saying? He sounded like a complete idiot now. “We should just keep going, maybe it’ll go away,” he really hoped so.

The two tried to continue on their way, sweating profusely under their normal fall garb. But the Stalfos still followed as if he had not been spotted. Galysses was quickly covering the ground between them. After only a few minutes of their anxious shuffling up the hillside passed, the Stalfos was at their backs. Yazstromo felt a chill go down his spine once again, turning to see the creature riding their tails. Before he could scurry away, Galysses lifted his large hand and grabbed the old man, throwing him on the ground.

Yazstromo let out a sharp groan as he knocked his head quite nicely on a rock on his trip down. His partner turned around, finally noticing his friend was gone, thinking he had tripped. The colour in Railin’s face rushed away, leaving him a beaming white beacon among the grass. Railin drew a small dagger from his boot and approached the Stalfos with a little more than fear in his stance.

"Stand back," Galysses said loudly. "One more step and he's dead." He lifted the cursing Yazstromo from the ground, ignoring a rather harsh one that squeaked out as he closed his hand around the old man’s neck.

The bandit slowly stepped back, shocked, his guide and guard, in a near death moment. There was a short silence. After taking the cue to drop his weapon, Railin let the dagger fall. Galysses sealed the deal by letting go of Yazstromo. Yazstromo slowly got to his feet, catching his breath and holding his slightly bleeding head.

"Why are you gallivanting around in the daylight," Yazstromo said slowly but boldly, trying to calm himself as he dabbed at his cut.  
"I was directed to these lands by a shopkeeper in Labrynna. I am here to find whoever killed my father, Galyes," he said strongly. "It wasn't you two was it?" Galysses wondered but eagerly awaited the answer, with sword ready to strike. After all these years, he sometimes wished to be done with the searching, rather than by being gratified with finding his father’s killers.

It was Railin who spoke first. "What if we did? What would you do?" Galysses quickly took a glance at Railin and promptly swing wide for his legs with a greedy perpetual smile.

"Does that answer your question?" Galysses said angrily. Neither of the men responded, too busy gathering up courage or too busy whispering expletives. "I will take that as a no. So where are you guys headed?"

"To Kakariko Village," They said in unison, though half-heartedly.

"Great, I'm coming with you," Galysses confidently said, gauging their reactions. They were as negative as he expected. Perhaps he had been a little too rough; if so, he proceeded to pass it off as quickly as he had performed it. “I hope you’re okay with that.”

Yazstromo raised a hand holding a bloodied cloth as if to say something, but his younger bandit friend gave him a stern look of contempt. He rolled his eyes and pointed out their proper direction, muffling one more insult for their forced companion.  
It seemed that they were all headed in the same direction, just not under the same terms.


	5. Section 1.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author: Supreme Dirt  
2011 MAJOR EDIT AND REWORKING BY: Zeldaeinstein

Vicious sands whirled around him. The sun was but a faint circle in the sky. Whilst it did impede his sight, Allanon was thankful for the relative darkness. He struggled through the biting winds. He had not foreseen a sandstorm hindering his mission. He needed to reach the desert oasis, lest he lose the one chance he had of preventing the catastrophe that was set to hit the world, first destroying Hyrule, then reaching to the outer lands of Labrynna and Holodrum. Luckily, his homeland, a small island known in the legends of this land as Koholint, would be spared, as the mortals that populated the rest of the world could only visit it in their dreams.

A small whirling sound caused him to turn around. An oversized leever was coming towards him with frightening speed. He reached his hand out, meaning to summon the power of an Iron Knuckle from the sands, but withdrew it. Wisps of smoke curled up from his arm. He had forgotten the sun. He shook his head, and then, with his other, gloved hand, he pulled forth his sword. With a single sweep, his sword and the sacred fire he had summoned to it vanquished the beast.

Turning, he continued, hoping he was not too late. He reached the oasis and discovered something, something which would have utterly horrified any other person.

However, he was not a person.

The oasis was gone. In its place was a barren, rock-filled hole. And strewn around it were the remains of Iron Knuckles. Most would think this a great deed, worthy of song and legend. But Allanon, knowing the true nature of the metallic soldiers in the valley, was greatly saddened. His ancestors' guardians had been destroyed and he suspected the Gerudo Lapis Lazuli, the source of his peoples' power, was likewise gone. He decided to travel east, to Kakariko Village, and steal - borrow, he told himself - a map of this land. For he did not know much of it, and desperately needed a way to familiarize himself with the Kingdom he was calling home. And then he would head to the sacred Temple of Time, hoping that the ones spoken of in the legends would be there waiting as foretold.

The ancient Sheikah had been great benefactors to his people, the Garo, long ago. With both races nearly wiped from the surface of the world, he knew he could not rely on finding an old comrade sneaking about Kakariko. Together they had aided the Hylians with their magical artefacts, tutoring already powerful magicians of that race. After all, they were entitled to all the lands by the Gods themselves; or so that was what the clerics continued to preach in every culture, to every child.

Exhaustion of the Garo dark arts and the slightly less foreboding spells of the Sheikah had created many powerful stones, objects intended to lock away great power and terrible secrets. The Sheikah Diamond, Gerudo Lapis Lazuli, Sage's Diamond, Zora Sapphire, Goron Ruby, and the Kokiri Emerald were all given to their rightful tribes. On their own they could perform wondrous things, together even more so; together even deadly. The collection of these six stones would restore him to his former strength, the reward for any ailing Garo, pure vitality and near immortality when faced with one of the six. Yet, Allanon could never avoid his fate with the youth the stones could grant him, he had tried once before. He had truly tried.

If the Garo could collect the ancient keys he could finally attest for his past. At the Temple of Time he would begin his journey with the warriors who would save the land – although not all were aware of this mission. Together they were tied to the salvation of the world. The Words spoke of the men and women destined to join as one force, to bring unity back to the Kingdoms and rid the world of a threat like no other. When Allanon was restored to his former glory, a High General of the Garo race, he too would be a name remembered. And not for the wrong reasons.

One last gaze into the Oasis pulled him free of his memories. Wherever the treasure had gone, he would have to find it. He could not converse with anyone written down in the Words in his current state. Who in their right mind would believe him, his potential? Allanon sighed and clutched the many necklaces draping down his robes. He listened to them clink a sad melody in return, as if they could relieve his sorrow.

Pulling out an ancient instrument, the Full Moon Cello, he played a simple song. Light flashed and Allanon vanished in the whirling sands, a silhouette in a very dark place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Section One.


	6. Section 2.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Section Two~
> 
> Author: Zeldaeinstein

Mervil was in and out of the village in quick succession. The few supplies he had purchased were tied to his side beneath his heavy cloak; beads of sweat trickled down his brow in the rising sunlight, it was supposed to be entering fall by this time. Looking upon the small cliff side he had dealt with the two bandits, he chuckled quietly, leaving the village behind in a quiet stir. Today was apparently the Autumn Festival, the little celebration held at the castle where everyone was invited, supped and slept if need be. Every few years a small longing to take part had drifted upon Mervil's mind, the old days back at the Royal Birthdays were ones he always wanted to relive, but he just couldn't go.  
  
The people of Hyrule seemed to make this festival out to be more than it really was. A common belief was that the Goddesses left the realm after creation at the beginning of Autumn, letting things die into winter and spring forth at the melting of the snow, almost as if it truly was the day of Creation. It'd certainly be a party to remember with such a hot and blazing sun in the sky... Great deals of people and races joined together on the day in the castle, the music, the dancing and the scent seemed to drift on the wind every year on this night, maybe he'd go, just once. The poor shack he called home gazed back at him with empty black eyes.  
  
* * *  
  
It wasn't that far to Kakariko Village, a mere few hours walk, run, hobble, the three of them all had their method of transportation, some less graceful than the other. The hulking form of Galysses cast a shattered shadow behind him as he made his slow lumbering way ahead, red eyes scanning the horizon, a horizon filled by a group member. Yazstromo was leading them, the one most qualified to lead them about the way, his walk was erratic with a rise in his step that was from no where. Hyrule Field was large and empty, mostly empty, a few peahats peered out from the grasses, a few crows soared up high and trees were as scarce as always. Travelling today was proving a bit more work than originally thought, the weary Railin tailed, half from fear of the Stalfos and half from the unnatural heat. He thought about saying something, about taking a rest, but the other two were too involved in getting to the village to bother stopping for him; although, he was the first tailgater and would override Galysses authority, but that hope soon died.  
  
"My, it IS warm today." Yazstromo had stopped a few feet ahead of everyone, gazing up to the cloudless sky and sighing. "It will only make the arrival that much better, a nice rest after a long journey, a long and perhaps boring journey."  
  
"Yeah, boring." Galysses snapped his knuckles against a rock, or a tree, whichever it was sickly resonated the sound across the expanse causing Railin to shudder. "Before things get a little too sentimental, talking of nature or beauty, or whatever, don't you think we'll enjoy the rest a bit more if we don't take any on the way there. Some of us have more pressing matters to take care of other than stopping to smell flowers or to think for the sake of thinking."  
  
"I guess you are right my Stalfos friend, there are many things that need to be done, we can't be burning daylight, unless it burns us first." He shaded his face with his hand and tilted his head toward Railin. "But don't you think for the health of our third, Railin, that we should probably take five, or eleven, which ever pleases him most?"  
  
"I'm fine, we can keep going." Railin shook himself to get up off the ground he so graciously had sprawled across when they had stopped. "The sooner we get there, the better. And you never know, weather like this might give us a storm that we won't want to get stuck in." He watched Galysses roll his eyes and fold his arms, and Yazstromo merely shrugged, looked around for a few seconds and continued his walk to the village. Stumbling along the way, they advanced to Kakariko.


	7. Section 2.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Yazstromo
> 
> Note from the crossposter: Fair warning: This story was originally written by the Forbidden Writers as teenagers. This chapter makes that obvious.

"Ah, Kakariko is almost upon us! Soon, we can eat, drink and be merry, which sounds quite cliché, but it's a pleasant image for me." Yazstromo turned to his companions, Galysses with disgust on his face, and Railin lost in the fantasy which had kept him trudging along all this time, a world of pudding and soft beds. The Stalfos grunted, "Listen, I'm just tagging along with you idiots for some meat to hide behind if we get into some trouble. I've noticed you fleshy things make for pretty good shields. Especially against arrows." At this, Railin immediately woke from his daydream, a look of pain on his face...before collapsing to the ground. "Right, I think there's a chance we may need to stop, Galysses." Yazstromo looked at their companion, concern in his eyes. "Fortunately, the remains of a small village are over there, so we can carry him over, and find a nice bit of shade to place him in. And for Nayru's sake, could you carry him over your shoulder? We fleshy things don't take well to being dragged along the ground!"

Upon reaching the village, Railin was unceremoniously dumped on the ground, much to Yazstromo's chagrin, and Galysses went off to find some trees to break, or whatever it is he does. As Yazstromo looked around, he heard a snorting sound behind him. He turned around, before uttering a single word: "Moblins." Railin, who appears to hear things better in his sleep than when awake, jumped to his feet, and, following the old man's gaze, sighted 6 or 7 moblins, looking straight back at him. "Railin, stay out of the way. I can deal with this." Pulling a small, golden whistle from his robe, he blew into it once, and a clear note rang out from it, so clear as to permeate the very fabric of reality. With a loud crack, and a bright flash of light, perhaps 30 or 40 various items of silverware appeared, seemingly being led by a large dessert spoon. Then, the dessert spoon, in a high-pitched squeak, yelled, "Company, attack!", at which point the battalion of cutlery leapt upon the moblins, savagely attacking them in ways which shall not be described here. When the moblins were finished, the dessert spoon saluted Yazstromo, before disappearing with the rest of the battalion in another flash of light.

"I have to ask: what just happened? I mean, there was the whistle, then the spoon, then the "Attack!", then the moblins falling down, then the spoon disappearing, then me blithering on about the whistle, then the spoon, then the "Attack!", then-" Railin paused, then whispered, "I need to lie down", before once again falling backwards onto the ground. Yazstromo looked at him with a grin. "That has to be fun, what with you doing it so frequently. Mind if I give it a go?" He then turned around, and fell backwards, flat on the ground. Giggling, he exclaimed, "That was such fun! Oh, you need to start letting me in on these things." They lay there for a moment, before Railin asked, "So, what was with the whistle? I mean, how does it work?"

"Oh, it's fairly simple. I blow into this whistle, and then either that platoon of silverware you saw will appear, a chimp I am friendly with will appear, or absolutely nothing will happen. The chance of each happening is determined by a logarithm in the engine." Railin, losing any semblance of facial expression, summed his thoughts up succinctly: "What?" "Yes, but once I've used it, it takes a while before I can use it again. I call it the cooldown time. I can tell when it's ready by the icon on the HUD lighting up." Railin, even more lost, sat up. "What icon? I don't see any icons." Yazstromo, joining him, looked puzzled. "Sure there are. See, right there. Unless...this could be a NVMMOFPRPS." "Whoa, slow down. What's this NVLMNO...thing?" "An NVMMOFPRPS: A Not-Very-Massively Multiplayer Online First Person Role-Playing Story. That'd explain why only I can see the icon on the HU-" Just then, a loud crashing sound filled the air. Yazstromo and Railin turned around to see Galysses smashing the only remaining wall of a ruined four-sided hut. "Galysses, what exactly are you doing that for?" Yazstromo enquired. "Well, you seemed to be having a good time doing it, so I thought I'd give it a go." "Give what a go?" At this point, what could possibly be considered a smile crept across Galysses' skull. "Breaking the fourth wall." *BA-DUM, KISH* "Wait, who's playing the drumkit?" Galysses surveyed the area, before shrugging.

"Well, I don't have a clue what you've been saying, but that's not surprising. Ever since I met you, I thought you looked like some sort of wise...beard man. And what a handsome beard you have..." On saying this, Railin blushed, before stammering, "Wha-wha-what I me-meant was...umm..." Yazstromo placed his finger on Railin's lips, shushing him. "Don't worry. I've felt it too. This...connection between us. Railin...I think I love you." Railin's eyes filled with tears of joy. "Oh, Yazstromo! I'm so happy!" The two leaned in, their lips longing for the other's embrace, and then...a Cucco appeared, screaming, "YAOI ALERT! YAOI ALERT!"

"GAH!" Galysses awoke with a start, panic in his sockets. He looked around the shadowy ruins, seeing Yazstromo and Railin fast asleep, with a good distance between the two. Sighing, he shook his head. "See, this is why we shouldn't have stopped for a rest."


	8. Section. 2.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Link64Master

Yazstromo, leading the group, approached what seemed like a dead end, for it was a steep outcropping that seemed to stretch without end in opposite direction.

"Well," Railin said wearily. "climb over it?" He saw the deep gaps in between a split in the rock. "That would save us time, to state the obvious. I don't see an end in the other directions, so we might as well."

"Or we could go through it." Galysses replied. On that note, he got up against the rock and put the side of his face against the wall and knocked on it a couple times. "Heh, decoy, distraction, this is a fake wall. We could burst through it with a small effort. Maybe a sword/shield could do the trick."

Railin leaped on the opportunity and ran into the outcropping with full force and burst through it. A wide smile appeared on his face when he got to the other side.

"So you seem smart, but what are you grinning about?" Yazstromo said with curiosity.

The other two followed through the gap Railin had created. On the other side, was a gradual slope. And down below was a village. The three brought a smile across their face. Below they saw Kakariko Village, with a diverse population of races. Their were Gorons carrying spring water into Eld Inn, the local Inn across the street from the Kakariko Shaman's hut. Railin nearly fainted of pure joy.

"Interesting. Well, let's get going." Galysses calmly said. "I know Railin is dying to lie down!" Galysses smirked.

As they started heading down, Railin fell, with an arrow in the back of his knee.


	9. Section 2.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Supreme Dirt

Thunder crashed in the distance. The calming thud of rain drops soothed the tension he had been feeling. Eight and a half centuries later, and he still remembered the time he had spent with his wife and his baby son. Much had changed since he had left Gerudo Valley - including the banishment of the Demon that had infected his soul.

This demon had come from an alternate world. This world had not been shattered like his had been. However, utilising the idea of parralel universes, had discovered that unless he reversed an awful mistake he had made back in the time he was still human - that of love - a great cataclysm would befall this world.

He pulled a piece of Onyx from his pocket. A sadness gripped his heart, as he remembered walking through this gate over 8,000 years before. During the Great Sundering - the splitting of the Seven Nations, an event so ancient it was lost to time - the castle of Tarm was mostly destroyed. For it lay on a fault line with Koholint, his home country. It was torn apart, and what remains is the front of the castle. Much of it was left in Koholint, and the Great Hall had fallen into the abyss of the ocean. A pyramid had been built about 30 years later, and had been filled with traps so as to prevent vandalism.

He returned the Onyx of the Dead to his pocket. He wondered how events were unfolding in Hyrule. He pushed it from his mind, for he heard movement behind him. Drawing his sword, he spun to face whatever it was. Standing a few feet from him was an Iron Knuckle.

Allanon lowered his sword.

It was N'nkvus, his traveling companion. 5,000 years earlier, when he had ecaped his imprisonment in the Spirit Temple, he had found the Iron Knuckle badly damaged, out in the rain. He had repaired it, and the two had travelled together since then.

[We're not able to go to Hyrule. I'll rust in the rain.]  
An almost nonexistent rattle. He had shuddered.  
"No worries, my friend. We had best wait out the storm anyways."  
[And I'll guard the perimeter?]  
"That would be nice."

It went to stand at one end of the gate that they were sheltered beneath. Allanon himself guarded the other.

[It is a pity that the Full Moon Cello was destroyed. Do you have the Moonstone with which it was made?]  
"Yes, of course. I can repair it once we return to Hyrule."  
[What happened during the other 7 Instruments of the Sirens?]  
"They were destroyed when Oshus, the WindFish and Ocean King, was released from his prison in the Egg."  
[A pity. They we- LOOK OUT!]

Calmly, Allanon turned to face the Darknut. The Darknut stood there, waiting for Allanon to make a move. Allanon merely pointed a finger at it. It charged. Nearing its intended victim, it raised its sword. Suddenly, the rain around it and on it froze, clinging to the Darknut. It fell, and exploded in a burst of green flames. Allanon walked over an picked up the rupee it had left behind. A purple one. He pocketed it.

[Was that necessary?]

Hmm, it sounds amused, thought Allanon.

"Not really. I could have blown him apart where he stood."  
[I wish I could use magic.]  
"And I wish I could wield a two-tonne axe. I had best cast Shield upon this area."

He placed his mirrored shield upon the ground, and focused the spell upon it. It was reflected throughout the area. The raindrops outside, however, refracted it, therefore it did not work as well. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky in the distance.

[Master, what was the prophecy that you are following?]  
"It is this,

The land divided  
By the master stone  
Shattered by a hand  
Of naught but bone  
Undone by he  
And only him  
Or if he dies  
Only by Goddesses' whim."

[Which means...?]  
" 'The land divided by the master stone' refers to the Great Sundering. When the Terran Diamond was shattered, the Seven Nations were wrenched apart and began to drift apart. 'Shattered by a hand of naught but bone' refers to me, as I shattered the Diamond. Two of my childhood friends, Din and Farore, became jealous that I had married Nayru. So one day they tried to kill her. I leapt in front of her, and I died. However, the three of them sacrificed themselves to revive me, and left three golden triangles, their Light Force - or the Triforce, as it has come to be known - behind. The light from the sun and these triangles drove me insane. I shattered the Diamond, and caused the Great Sundering. And as the Goddesses are really only my childhood friends, if we fail..."  
[The world is screwed.]  
"Exactly."

Suddenly, in the distance, there was an explosion. N'Nkvus raised his axe.

"At ease. It was only Symmetry City, over in Labrynna. They'll fix the Tuni Nut, and be safe another 600 years before the volcano erupts again."  
[So Death Mountain-]  
"Death Mountain is fine. The two volcanos are not linked."  
[So what was the second part of the prophecy?]  
"Just descriptions of the stones,

For Hyrule, the glowing green of the winds of change  
Labrynna's wisdom embodied in the cool blue  
Holodrum's fierce spirit burns like fire  
The tribute to a fallen empire, now long dead  
The transcendence of Time shown in the Byrrnan Pearl  
The Somarian Garnet, governing space  
And the illusionary seashell, tying them as one.

The first three are currently in the Temple of Time. The Onyx of the Dead is what I came here for. The Byrrnan Pearl is also in my possession. The illusionary seashell was forged into the Master Sword."  
[So we must destroy the Master Sword to save the world?]  
"No. To restore the Terran Diamond the stones will merge as one with the Sword. For the Terran Diamond itself is simply another name for the legendary blade."  
[And the garnet? What of it?]  
"It was in the possession of a great friend of mine, and hid it within his son."  
[Within his son...?]  
"Yes, within his son. In order to restore the Terran Diamond, we must fuse the Master Sword with the five pieces we have, and have the man with the Garnet embedded in his soul wield it. However, he does not know he has the Garnet embedded within his soul."  
[Who is this man?]  
"His name... is Galysses."


	10. Section 3.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Section Three~
> 
> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Forever Forgotten: The Autumn Festival

“Everyone, get down!” Galysses knocked the two men to the ground immediately and struck his shield in the path of another arrow. It screamed off and away from it, landing without an arrowhead on the ground, or in the steel. Red eyes scanned the buildings but no one area was seen as the source of the attack; all at once Kakariko Village lost its protective taste. The village was utterly quiet in the late afternoon sun, doors and windows were barred and black, the birds were also gone.

“One has to love abandoned areas and the courageous feelings they stir inside.” Yazstromo was kneeling by Railin, tending to his wound by unsympathetically yanking the arrow free in a small spurt of blood and a large amount of pain. “Seems our mysterious sniper enjoys himself some magic.” He playfully turned a headless shaft in his hands, ultimately flicking it away in boredom.

“Great, he has arrows without heads, either way I’m certainly enjoying my lack of flesh.” The Stalfos warrior stood above them acting as a draughty shield, keeping watch of nearby windows for any movement. It was all dead. The emptiness was unwelcome and all encompassing. “Well then, saboteur or not, he must be a bit afraid of this-,” He pounded his shield and smiled his permanent smile wider than normal. Railin held his knee and Yazstromo yawned in the whittling sunlight.

“Then what in Gods names are we still sitting here for?” He grabbed Railin and pulled him to his feet, pushing the Stalfos to the side and entering the first building, Yazstromo dropped the bandit in the blackness.”Worthless old twit!” A body came crashing through the closed shutters, a cloaked man holding a glass bow tumbled about coughing harshly. Galysses jumped back at the sudden action and looked sheepishly away as his eccentric partner came huddling about from the building. “Look, I caught one.” Yazstromo ripped the extravagant bow and a quiver of small staffs from the man and tossed them to Railin, on his feet with only a minor limp. “Hi there, my name isn’t necessary, although, I assure you that my friends and I really want to get to know you.” Grabbing the hood of the fallen man, Yazstromo pulled it away and fell back in a small puff of violet smoke. For a split second a symbol drifted lazily in the air, it resembled something gnawingly familiar to Galysses as he witnessed it.

“I would call that poor company, really.” The Stalfos shook with laughter and walked into the centre of the empty town, it was peaceful there, save a faint breeze. Although the day was nearing its end it was still unnaturally hot for his two human companions, the joys of being a member of walking dead seemed to have no limits. Warmth and the cold could have been feelings he may have desired once upon a time, but coming to reality of what he was and what he was meant for put an end to all of that thinking. Pain was another matter though, the Goddesses were excessively cruel to make it difficult to harm his kind, but still gave him the sensation of pain whenever it luckily occurred. Now that he had thought about it, an itch of feeling was bothering him in his shoulder, shrugging his shield a bit to the side Galysses immediately changed focus to the skyline. A glittering blue arrowhead was stuck within the area of his bones, smarting more and more every second.

“Well, crap.” Yazstromo’s voice was to his side; they both watched as faceless archers rose from all of the buildings and crawled as if from the very dirt itself. Decorated on their grey cloaks was the same damning symbol that had escaped the first of their kind. Bows were cocked and swords were raised ready to strike.

“You said it.” The mass of brigands moved without hindrance, distorting the air about them, their glass weapons glimmering in the refracted sunset. Galysses swung his sword through the abdomen of one during a straightaway, happily watching it burst into a puff of smoke. Taking as many as possible at once with his blade, Galysses seemed to be able to continue his slaughter if not for the constant rain of magic arrows from the buildings above. Yet those enemies soon met ends as Railin, down to his good knee, was firing shot after shot with impressive skill, Yazstromo appeared plain inattentive doing his fair share of easy kills.

“He will be infor-,” The last of the creatures was cut through by the Stalfos’ jagged blade.

“Such simplicity.” A stroking of his beard and Yaz plopped to the ground, already beginning to plot something in the dirt; the annoying symbol soon found a temporary home. “Yet as I look I feel that besides them carrying hellish weapons, our foes weren’t our…average bandits, agreed?” The old twinkle seemed to subside as he fell misty-eyed into thought. “Yes such a simple pattern…”

“Doesn’t that look like-,” Railin began but Galysses suddenly began into a raucous coughing fit. “As far as I remember, you don’t have anyway of coughing, let alone breathing, you stupid-.”

“There is no time to waste sitting here with maybe more of those things hiding in this village of ours. Perhaps we should get going and collect any supplies we can, give ourselves a nice long distance from here.” Yazstromo flickered a sly smile as his warrior friend’s eyes narrowed in shock and what seemed to be delight. “I suggest you take lookout here in the center of town, call out if you need us. Just make sure not to end up dead, although either way we’ll still know we have ourselves pitiful squatters.”

“So you figured out what it was, did you?” Galysses made certain to be out of earshot of the bandit when he finally spoke again; however, Yazstromo remained silent as they checked each house thoroughly, even as far as going to checking under beds. It was killing him, why wouldn’t he talk?

“The sun is setting.” Yaz mulled over a small teaspoon he had found on one of the tables, tapping it softly on the wood and testing its strength in between his hands. Shrugging, he pocketed it without a thought, clapping his hands together as Galysses unloaded a drawer filled with silverware. The Stalfos picked up knives and placed them in his belt. “You know, being afraid of the dark really is the most excusable fear in the world. Don’t you agree that you don’t necessarily find it pleasant to remain when the sun leaves us?”

“The only thing is this entire place I fear is that little head of yours.” Galysses pushed himself back out into the half stifling heat of the outside. Shadows were cast in every direction, oblong and frightening, much luck them doing much of anything to him either. Weaknesses were being questioned every second in the Village though; maybe this false safety he built around himself was going to be broken. He pivoted successfully and let a single knife fly into the building, sailing past Yazstromo’s ear and landing with a soft ‘thud’ in the wall behind. Short strands of hair fell down to the floor lazily. “Tell me what you know about that symbol; what you know should be shared, haven’t you ever heard that little saying?”

“You know, my hair was at the perfect length, now I have to cut-,” Yaz was driven back against the central table forcefully, a rotten smell escaped from the shuddering teeth of his partner. Smiling daftly, he shrugged the boney hands away and pulled the knife from the wall, immediately adding it to his pocket, no care in the world about its sharpness. “Don’t you think you’d enjoy knowing better if you figure it out on your own? I mean, what rule states I have to tell you a thing, hm? None as far as I’m concerned. Maybe put that skull into use and pretend you have something in it, there’s no fun in me just telling you”

Yazstromo heaved in a huge breath of air when he got outside and wiped his brow with his sleeve. Nicking the dirt playfully he went further about his business of searching for useful items. “Anatomy never really settles with me when it comes to things like you, Galysses.” He chuckled. “Maybe someday you’ll inform me a bit, especially how you just go about your life. Spells? Magic? I’d appreciate more talk than that though.” The Stalfos rolled his eyes and ground his teeth together in anger. “Don’t hold it against me; please I hope you understand what you shouldn’t. Think of it as your journey, think of it as a-,”

Galysses reeled back with a yell as a second arrow found home in his shoulder; he lifted his shield up in defence and was struck again from the back. Yazstromo removed a spoon from his satchel and uttered a small phrase into the curve, a shield poured out into his hand in time to deflect a third projectile. Two more gray cloaks peered out from the roofs of the two highest buildings, the Inn and the Bazaar. Yaz suddenly found himself with a mouth full of dirt, a hand shot up from the soil and pulled him down, revealing the back of the skeletal warrior once more. Railin came bounding as fast as he could, diving and hacking the shadowy hand away, rolling to his side and plunging two arrows into the snipers afar.

“These damn things are everywhere!” The bandit kept felling more foes as they rose up in windows and rooftops. “Feels like all we’re doing is playing a game.”

“That’s exactly what we are in.” Yazstromo tossed his current spoon away and grimaced at the sight of another wave of creatures. “Now what are we going to call these things?”

“We aren’t going to call them anything.” Galysses struck the second arrow from his body with a rock, gasping lightly in pain. More and more kept rising from the winds, the sands, the buildings and even midair. The symbol was mocking him, the grey fool was mocking him too all this time.

“I don’t know about you two, but I have an itch to get out of here.” Railin backed away from the main group and stopped as a chill raced down his spine. The wind blew up in their faces and blank hoods began sifting up into the Village Square. They had gotten themselves surrounded by grey cloaks, and all they would say was an inaudible, or at least, unknown word, or perhaps a name. “Please tell me you guys have ideas.”

“I don’t.” Galysses’ eyes were dim red orbs, piercing the slight darkness, taking in all the bodies to see.”Other than the usual hack-our-way-through approach; it’s worked in the past.”

“The past didn’t have a few hundred of the things breathing down our necks!” The heat was almost unbearable, the wind kept blowing it up in their faces, yet the grey cloaks did not rustle at all. Were they even here? Were they even dead when they were killed? Thoughts petered out immediately when two more groups appeared to box them completely in, all four sides lifted glass bows ready to fire. A large sigh went up from the back end, followed by a deafening screaming noise. Smoke flew everywhere and all of the grey cloaks changed their focus to the source and opened fire. Bodies went flying out trailing more smoke into the air, whispers died and the word was yelled. A man dressed in black stood still in among a line of fallen glass weapons, his face barely visible under his hood.

“I suggest you take this chance to leave now.” He lifted his left arm and unlatched a withered looking book and pulling his hood down, he began to also speak in an unknown tongue. The right arm closed the book and revealed itself; the man snapped his wrist downward and a long flaming scythe found itself a new home. Mervil bounded out past them, knocking them away in an invisible wake, they began running, keeping an eye back to see as he tore through the grey cloaks without thought or compassion. Arrows were deflected invisibly, smoke billowed out into the sky endlessly and yet they still came, looking as if any moment they would overpower him.

Galysses and his crew slid down the moss bitten hill back into the darkening Hyrule Field. Zora’s River rushed past them with the final summer surge, tonight was the Autumn Festival, to be festive seemed a bit far off the agenda for the night. A loud explosion cracked out from the sky, looking to see flames or smoke, all that they could see was a fading firework by Hyrule Castle.

“I believe it is time that we got to meet the King.” Yazstromo smiled for a second and for all the world was worth, everything actually seemed so grave.

***

The second firework was more beautiful than the last. Faint stars glittered in the bruise coloured sky, off to the west the Sun was emitting one last show of defiance to the movement of the earth. Pinks, blues and reds hacked away at the sky, clouds were askew and hints of rain drifted on the breeze. Tap sat in thought, dangling her legs absentmindedly over the edge of an empty Lon Lon Ranch. Her hair was frizzled from the day’s travel and stress of dealing with those two bandits earlier on. Across her lap was a single arrow, the bow leaned against the lifted gate. If it hadn’t been the night of the Autumn Festival, the abandoned and unguarded farm would have been eerie and disquieting.

Kaz was huddled up on the other side of the natural fortress, a strange outcropping of rock in the middle of the plateau of Hyrule Field was home to the successful Ranching team of Malon and Talon. The brigand didn’t know that his presence was already known to her, since she had started moving he had unnaturally followed her, diving into hiding whenever she ‘thought she heard something’. The robin she entrusted to keep guard every so often had made sure she wasn’t being followed by someone she didn’t want to be. It made her smile, though Tap had helped him, it really shouldn’t have been enough for him to trust her.

Blue lights exploded above the castle and she held her breath as it changed to red. When did Hyrule get to be so formal and informal at the same time? Off to her side she noticed an odd number of shadows travelling up the different paths to the castle. More guests from afar, such splendid celebration for the beginning of the harrowing winter winds to come. Strangely enough none of them were talking about the excitement to come, all walking in unison and mute. Tap couldn’t help but glance at them every now and then, almost too gravitated to watching the firework display to give a damn. Each time she forced herself a double take as their numbers seemed to oddly increase. Then to the northeast three figures came bounding to a stop, all different sizes, collapsing in exhaustion. Were they with the ‘new party members’ as well?

A firefly darted past her ear in the breeze. They should have been gone for the winter by now; although, it was a welcomed sight. Tap gave a command and watched it make a straight path to the figures; its tiny light disappeared for a moment and returned with quick succession. A flash of information and speech met her consciousness, a bag of bones, a spry little man and that other bandit who fled from his partner. Curiosity stirred within her and for a moment all she wanted to do was run down and get a better look at the three. Those other things didn’t fair too much for a want to know them better.

Those other things were moving toward the others, almost immediately changing focus of the Town Walls to them after their appearance. And now they no longer secretly were joining them. The sky was spilling them down in huge numbers and even the ground was erupting without stirring, grey cloaks. The previous firework had given such a light as to illuminate all of them for the world, for Tap, to see. Raising her hand she pinched down hard on her arm for self-assurance and cursed at the reality. Closing her eyes and breathing in, she opened them to an empty field, the clouds that had appeared were no longer there, and the three were still stationary and alone.

It had gotten lonely out in the Field now. The grey cloaks stood on the Capital Walls.

***  
“Well isn’t that gorgeous!” Yazstromo’s face was lit by a blue firework that had recently set off; it was like the past brush with death hadn’t even happened. The brush with death wasn’t even over yet. Galysses had noticed them hording out in the evening light, now with the stars taking center stage, at least they would have been without the fireworks. There was no moon. “You know, when I was younger I worked with fireworks for a man who I shamefully can’t say I remember. It was some of the most fascinating work I ever conducted. Really you two, if you ever get the chance to set a flame one of those, it’s the greatest feeling in the world to watch them explode.”

“Are we going to stand around here being sentimental or are we going to do something useful, say, telling the king exactly what is going on?” Railin shrugged; he was leaning against Galysses who had reluctantly allowed him to do so, his leg was still bleeding through the haphazard bandaging job, it looked a great mess. If he didn’t receive medical attention it would fester and that would be the end of his short journey.

“Oh yes, that order of business. I’d almost forgotten about that whole thing.” He rolled his eyes, yet smiled wryly as he began to walk toward the dark walls of the castle. “Stupid fools, I’m not that too absent minded, or absent minded at all. I think.” Brushing some dust from his shoulders he motioned them to follow, seems they could only stand there and do nothing. “Clean yourselves up, strip naked and jump in the river if you have to. Everyone must look splendid in there, drinking, dancing, laughing, probably drinking some more; we have to follow suit.” Yaz peered upward at all of the grey cloaks standing in the shadows of the castle walls and shook his head grimly. But he did nothing, his odd levelled hair flattering out in the wind behind him, his pockets jingling with silverware.

“We’re late!” He pounded hard against the inner gate of the castle town and found it to be unlocked, creaking slowly from the force of his blows. Two guards were sitting off to the side, one was asleep and the other in a drunken daze. Yazstromo had the urge to kick them hard in the kidneys, but that subsided at the amount of people inside that would see the ‘treasonous’ act. People were everywhere, dancing around in circles, watching for too long was making him nauseous. Rainbow coloured lights were floating from magic spells given by the wizards around the town, it was like daylight, only a few true flames were lit. And there by an extravagant litter, was the King of Hyrule and his Royal Guard. His face was different colours at every flash of a firework from the display, but over all he was extremely red. Great, everybody was a drunken little slob here.

The Temple of Time was covered in lights and banners of leaves and vines, different hosts of other lands had brought their own banners to add to that of Hyrule’s. It was a sight to see, all the knights, ladies and lords, generals and even the peasants seemed in a new light. Houses were lit and several shadows of laughing folk were seen from the outside. Stars twinkled and the entire world was happy here. Yaz had to bring the bad news that something was certainly off tonight and perhaps continually.

No one was really paying attention to the king, at least until after he called them together for the last release of the fireworks stock for the Autumn Festival. He was large and muscular, long whit e merged with his beard, he was old and tired but looked nothing more than a young boy in a man’s body.

“One last hurrah, my citizens!” Harkinian was obviously near the edge of being a babbling drunk like the rest of them. “Enjoy the night and welcome the winter months by filling your bellies and treating your thirst. All assets spent are mine, from the treasury. All for you, Hyrule.” Over two dozen fireworks lit up the sky and it truly felt like day light, with all the people around it was a perfect opportunity.

“I request council, my Liege. If you would that is.” Yazstromo called out to him from the steps below of the far north platform. The King turned to him and smiled, directing him to go ahead, but as he stated his case, the smile went away and people laughed. “I bring grave news of a potential attack, I have seen the foes here in this area, be sure to believe me, my-,” He turned around to an absence of his followers, they were on the other side of town looking at Gods know what. A mock smile he forced to his lips was something he knew to make him seem a common folk. It didn’t matter to him. “Please listen, I think it is in your best interest to think about what I have to say.”

“Take the wretched little fool away, put him in the tower and wait for him to sober up.” Harkinian shoved one of his Royal Guard ahead; the other had a puzzled look, more at Yaz than at the king. How bizarre. The knight grabbed him roughly by the arm.

“You’ll regret this, your Majesty, more than you might know.” He cursed under his breath, right when people should heed his word they blatantly throw it back in his face. Knowledge was everything. Rattling the guard’s mail, he found it a pleasant surprise not to smell liquor on his breath when he questioned his motive. “Tell you what, I have this splendid object, worth more than you likely earn in five years salary. If you let me go about my business you can have it.” He took the glass bow from his shirts and gave it over to the bearded man. Looking at the bow to Yazstromo his shrugged his shoulders and released him from his iron grip. Away he was pushed into the crowd, and the man disappeared back to the King no doubt, give the false word.

“Hey you two bubbly morons, get over here!” Yaz was crossing the Square when he noticed trails of smoke rise into the air; someone in a red cloak was killing off some of the grey ones. Excellent, it seemed he at least had someone on his side. And there, a man he knew only to be the ‘spell man’ was walking delicately through the front gates. Everybody was gathering, something had to have been wrong. The feeling was twisting in his gut. Yazstromo’s breath caught when some of the grey cloaks began descending closely by the walls, standing stark still, nobody noticed.

“Is that Kaz?” Railin appeared out of nowhere besides Galysses, but they weren’t taking notice of the man they had left by himself for no damn reason. “Kaz! Down here!” The bandit was jumping and smiling, but red in the face too, stopping as a shadow on the wall turned from him briskly. Was he really ashamed of what he had done? Yazstromo chuckled at the proposal.

Suddenly he felt a great weight all around him. Turning in the wind, his eyes passing Mervil who was sifting his way through the crowd on his lonesome straight for the King, Yaz found his gaze home on Harkinian. One Royal Guard. “Gods be damned.” Out from one of the houses a blue headed arrow cut across the sky and splintered into Harkinian’s gut, another in his chest; the King reeled, a short scream was cut off by another as the other Royal Guard came up with his sword at the back of his neck. The sword was his arm. The King’s head flew forward in a spout of blood and flesh, his body fell lifeless. White hair matted with blood rolled out among the people and they all spread out crying in fear.

Grey cloaks burst from the walls, the gifted knight rolled out from a bay window, changing immediately into one of the greys. Yet the killing Royal Knight did not change. Mervil was backing away, a look of utter hatred crossed his face, his eyes met Yazstromo’s and he jerked his head toward himself. His fiery scythe was cutting through hundred, hundreds, of the foes.

“I am Arivis!” The executioner called out, leaping onto the litter roof and boasting a large orange staff; flames erupted into the sky at his command. His sword arm was changing colour. Amazing. “I am your king now, and now my subjects, I order you to death or to fealty! Hyrule is mine and with it, all of you.”

"Bar the Gates!" The knight Yazstromo had given the glass bow to seemed to be some kind of sick second in command. He was felling people like they were nothing with the magical arrows he was pulling from his own quiver. Some of the grey cloaks ran to the gates lifting up shadowy looking logs from the very cobblestones and shoving them tightly across the wooden structures. "Gather the people from all about for judgment." People who denied had their lives strictly taken, their blood spilled down across themselves in quick style. It was both intriguing, how quickly this had happened, and horrifying.

"When I direct my attention to you, you are supposed to follow." A deep voice hissed in his ear and he felt a strange liquid feeling take over the air he was breathing. "Where are your friends?" Yazstromo tried to find a face, but tight hands kept him in front of his helper stark still. Pointing sheepishly at the sore thumb of Galysses they began running toward him. "This is Galysses I presume."

"Why, yes, yes it is." The man now saw his face, the strange savior back up in Kakariko Village.

"Excellent." A shadowy hand burst forward and shrouded the Stalfos warrior within, pulling him into some kind of shield Yazstromo guessed. Well, he knew, since more than a half dozen arrows had been reflected away from it, most around his face. "Now heed this advice, stick around here and you won't be harmed. Don't go off ignoring the word for less...amiable things." Mervil left the protective area and began running full on toward the usurper.

"Look at the fool! We have to stop him!" Galysses began to run after but a firm hand wound its way across his forearm. "What do you think you're doing? I'm not going to have some old coot trying to direct what I'm-,"

"If you leave you most surely will die." Yazstromo yanked him back, hard, into the area. "If he wants to run off and die, than so be it, as far as I'm concerned, we're save enough here. The rash are brave for as long as their head rests on their shoulders." Two more citizens fought back from being herded and soon lost their lives in defiance, the grey cloaks had no compassion for life. If he hadn't seen them die, Yaz would have guessed them dead, or never alive for that matter.

More than a dozen tunnels of smoke lifted into the sky, should they really dare to leave and try and fight? No, that would be ignorant of them, sure they could bring them down with ease, but who knew how many grey cloaks this Arivis possessed. This Arivis was interesting, no wonder it had been so warm a day, that staff he wielded, flowing flames willy-nilly in the air, had to have been the cause. Could this have been prevented? Mervil leaped up on a downed wagon and seemed to float in the air, unleashing a thin beam of light from the pages of his book.

The blinding light cracked Arivis in the chest, spewing black liquid in every direction as he fell back onto the cobblestones. It burned into the litter he had been standing on, the staff he carried had stopped and with it most of the noise. Whimpering and dying rasps echoed in the town but just like that, the capital had been besieged.

“I am Arivis! I am your king now, and now my subjects, I order you to death or to fealty! Hyrule is mine and with it, all of you!"The 'new' king returned to his standing position but was slowly melting. Mervil spun full on his feet but was knocked away by some kind of strange force before he could take any action. Arivis fell apart into a puddle and an identical Guard stood at the other end of the Square.

"So you are the fabled Wanderer. I must say you are a bold one." Arivis carried his staff lazily beside him. "A wonder, this Staff of Suns. We know all about it, don't we?" Mervil pushed himself to his feet, a thin trickle of blood down his cheek, an expression of pure malevolence staring hard outward. Opening his arms, Arivis smiled a smile with sharp teeth. "See what I've done, aren't you impressed? My Numen made short work of this all. I really admire their skill at killing."

"They are efficient I have to admit." The black garbed man held tightly onto his spellbook. "I'm surprised to see you, Demon." Arivis laughed at him and lifted his sword arm that was now the colour of blood. Up above on the walls were the two hiding shadows from earlier. Where was that Railin anyhow? No bodies on the ground were him, none in the groups. He must have hid himself nicely. Or he was right behind them.

"Why are they just talking?" The brigand was pale and appeared to have been sick earlier.

"Talking is the fastest way to deal with something, don't you know?" Yazstromo sheepishly smiled and shook his head. Was it time to act?

"Surprised that you even show your face. I'm going to make sure you spend the eternity you were supposed to in the North!" Mervil flashed open his Flame Scythe and covered the ground between he and Arivis quickly. A hand of air grabbed him, swung him overhead and bashed him against a tower on the wall. The man watched shocked looks cover a girl and a man beside him as he adjusted his cloak, and cracked his neck."Stay exactly where you are." Tap widened her eyes and looked at Kaz, only to see that Mervil was back down with the King.

"I heard you're immortal." Arivis gnashed his teeth calmly. "I also heard that your hand, well, a mighty shame! It has been so long really since Crandall fell, hm? As far as I know, survivors count." Again he laughed an echoed chuckle. "You also harbour Yazstromo, I pity you, sincerely I do. Galysses is nothing. You might think of yourself as the Wanderer, or the Deliverer, but you're doing it for no good reason. Words as old as sand and as old as yourself!"

Arivis shook the ground with a mighty expulsion of energy, knocking the cloaked man from his feet, yet he landed quietly on his palms. Flames came next, but by the direction of the Scythe they did nothing.

"The same old tricks as before, I see."

"No, just to make you think I do." Mervil was buffetted by magical energy and landed hard against the bloodied soil. "Enjoy your trip."

"That's it, I have to do something!" Galysses ran from the shield but again was stopped, but this time by Railin. Yazstromo became wide-eyed and watched helplessly as the cloaked man disappeared like rain and all his magic with him. The Stalfos and Bandit did not follow him, but a sharp image of forest backdropped them before darkness took him.

***

It was dark. No nightmares this time, he had just lived his, again. Mervil sat up slowly, aching all over. His hand pounded painfully. All around him in a haphazard circle were three others. The bow trader Yazstromo, Kaz and a hump of red he knew as Tap. That was almost all of them.

"Damn." He swore. He knew that two of the needed ones was a good start, but he had failed to keep the Warrior. Such a brash creature, Galysses was, it would be the death of him someday. Mervil shuddered. No, death can never find itself home with him.

"The Demon lives." Mervil was surprised at Yaz's voice in the darkness of the caves, only to noticed he was on his stomach playing with the soil aimlessly. "I once heard that legends were nothing to think of, that they never existed and never would." Flipping to face him, Mervil scowled the same as usual, his neutral expression. "But it seems that our Sun has come calling for its Moon. Our Demon has come to claim the throne. Now what happens next?"

"We stop him."

Yazstromo smiled and soon Mervil found reality with exactly what they had to do. 


	11. Section 3.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Deku Lord
> 
> Original note:  
*Well, apparently I'm next, due to the absence of the two before me. No worries, the all-powerful plot-guide has determined it to be fine. If you feel the urge, PM me and tell me how my writing is, I've never written anything of this nature before. If you plan to do that, just give it to me straight, and if it's bad, tell me how to improve. Enjoy.*

***Earlier***  
It was cold. So bloody cold, why did creepy tombs of the undead always have to be this cold? The deku slashed another Gibdo in two. “Disgusting pile of rags” he muttered under his breath. Hurrying forward, he took a dive into a false floor, which did nothing for his temper. He landed hard. “Curses!” Brushing the dirt off his now-ruined cloak, he continued on, pebbles moving about under his feet, and narrowly avoiding his doom from a pendulum-blade. “And they call this a shortcut, accursed Sheika and their accursed tomes. Cur-“ But he was cut off, fear stricken into him by the closing fire walls to his sides, and the Stalfos behind him. Where the hell did that thing come from anyway? Throwing a deku nut, the king burst into a run, trying to get as far away from the skeleton warrior as he possibly could. “I must be insane” he thought, “I just took a burning tunnel over combat with a Stalfos.” But then, in an odd moment of ingenuity, he drew his blade, and held the short sword perpendicular to the walls until they held it for him, but were forced apart by the very thing they held. The deku continued walking, but then he heard something. It was an ear splitting sound that could only be steel, not bending, but snapping in two. The walls began to close faster, and they bashed together behind him as he leapt through the gap, spitting burning shards of wood everywhere. “I hate this place” he said, the ferry taking him down a sluggish, winding river, somewhat resembling a tomb. Of course, this was a tomb, so he supposed it made sense. Taking the tiller, he began to guide the boat to the right side of the passage, praying that the ancient book would continue to serve him well. Eventually the trudging boat entered the wall, and the king breathed a sigh of relief. There, on a slightly raised platform, was the fruit of this demented journey into hell, the one thing that had caused him to leave his cushy home in the Lost Woods to seek out. Not that it could really be called a home. He first removed the scabbard from the monument, taking a few seconds to admire its beauty. It was wooden, stained at least twice, with intricate carvings depicting the history of a land unknown...to most. Having donned the scabbard, he took up the Garo’s Blade, sheathed it, and sprinkled the last of an odd powder onto his tongue. “Too bad I won’t be getting more any time soon” he muttered. Snapping his fingers, he vanished.

***Present Time***  
It gave him an uneasy feeling. He didn’t know what it was about this new sword, but it bothered him quite a bit. Slowly he stood, and took a look around his humble abode. It was wooden, it almost looked like those ‘Igloo’ things he had seen long ago in the iced lands. Across from the door was a fire place, the smokestack of which was hollowed out through the tree trunk. There was a small wooden table built for two, and a posh, blood-red rug under it. He had no windows, though, the king hadn’t much taste for the elements anyway, so it worked out alright. But this sword, it made him want to travel again, almost pulling him out of the hut. Next thing he knew, he’d gathered the rest of his food from the cupboards, stuffed it in a haversack, and departed for the stream to fill his dinalfos-skin water pouch. Touching it made him wonder about his old friend from the mountains, but not for too long, because a voice in his head kept screaming “Ikana! Ikana!” He didn’t even know where this place was, much less how to get there. He had just about made the stream, something thumped up ahead. “Strange” he thought, adjusting his path slightly to the left. He wasn’t sure what it was that landed in the Woods, but he wanted to find out, and he was determined to satisfy that desire.


	12. Section 4.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> ~Section 4~
> 
> Aftermath

The tunnels were dark. Here and there the trickle of water echoed from above, below or the sides, the damp and rotten air filled each of their lungs more than any had liked. At least some of them were used to it, the hindrance of breathing. Nobody had said a single word outside of taking the leading man’s direction and their brief, empty introductions when they all had awoken to blackness.

Yazstromo looked about in wonder; no matter how much he prodded the ‘Wanderer’ to tell him where they had gone, he had only remained quiet and solemn. At least he was better than the other two, the bandit friend and the girl in red, all they did was mope or exchange looks. A part of him felt sorry for them, but that was about as far as it got, they had no idea what else could await them, if Arivis had shook them up, well, no longer would they find joy in legends.

“Left.” Mervil’s harsh voice broke the silence at a crossroads of tunnels. One heading toward the right definitely did not seem too welcoming, the faint light they were thankful for disappeared only but a few feet in its wake. Again they followed him like sheep to a potential slaughter. Yaz stifled a chuckle, Kaz and Tap also wouldn’t enjoy knowing their lives would forever be on the line from this point forward. “Straight ahead.”

“So, Deliverer!” The old man called out to his comrade expecting silence, and there was. “I couldn’t help but try, you really are poor company.”

“What in the Gods’ names do you want?!” He swung around fiercely, a burning in his eyes and a dark expression tearing across his face. “So much for the Scholar to have to ask me the questions!” Pounding two fingers against his chest he realized he was using the wrong hand and pain shot through his arm. “Go on, you have to have something important to say, you’ve only been asking for the last three goddamn hours!”

“Um…You actually answered my question.” Yazstromo felt a smile tug at his lips but he felt kind of stupid to try and mock the one man who sent Arivis back where he came the last time he had risen. “You are the Deliverer, the Wanderer, I’m the Scholar and who is our little friend here?” Tap gazed upward as the man waved an arm halfheartedly towards her. She looked into the hard dead eyes of the man cloaked in black and felt extremely uncomfortable from the eye contact, like he could snap at any moment.

“She has no designation.” Mervil looked away suddenly and continued to walk forward. “At least not yet. I’m not even sure she’s the one we’re looking for. The damnable legend speaks of so many possibilities.” He stopped at the sight of a door and seemed to grow rigid at the sight. In chipped paint the stone was covered in all sorts of designs, the first and central was that of a violet rose. Mervil placed his gloved hand upon the bud and pushed reluctantly.

With a groan it moved to the side, the air in the chamber beyond was full of dust and heavy with an old stench of blood, never allowed to leave. Mottled stone clung to the sides and the ceiling seemed to almost disappear in the darkness high, high above. Kaz looked about in wonder, whispering to Tap, who seemed more intent on watching the road ahead more than anything; something in the back of her mind was nagging at her about the two strangers, like she should know them.

“We’re not in…?” The older of two piped up as they walked, the flame scythe in Mervil’s hand smoldered just enough for adequate light. Yazstromo heard nothing but his own voice several times over as it echoed off the vaulted ceilings, the walls were far to either side and he could have sworn there were lumps of what he thought to be bodies gathered there. He stepped from the main path but was suddenly stopped by a shimmering barrier.

“You will not disturb them.” Mervil was facing him again looking him over quizzically, apparently eyeing him for true value. “They have gone untouched for near two thousand years and today will not be the day to break that. We are almost done here, Scholar. Bandit, girl, quit whispering about who or what I am, it is not like I cannot hear you.” The two suddenly became pale and looked away up to the ceiling where stone supports seemed to disappear in the crumbling rock.

“We’re not in caves are we?” Tap finally bothered saying something, her voice quiet a small sound of fear ended every syllable. “You know where we are, just tell us.” Her courage floundered at the end and her saying seemed to be swallowed up in the loneliness of the caves. Ahead the massive room came to an abrupt end in a small cave in. Mervil said a single word and a small void swallowed them up, to most people’s surprise, light filtered in from behind a wrecked door, all it’s paint save for the image of a dragon wing had been worn away.

Closing his book, the cloaked man rustled his hair and battered the door open, fresh air swung in and dust exploded out upon green overgrown grass. Weeds and all sorts of flowers grew up to their waists.

“We’re standing in a courtyard…” Yazstromo passed a small tree, its leaves rustling in a slight wind. All around them old statues were crumbling, some had fallen and some had been taken by vines. The walls that were rising up all around were decayed, fabric steel rings hung empty, their silks and curtains they once hung had been eaten by the weather. Nearby a large slab of stone had fallen from the deformed tower they had just entered from was revealing another section of the building.

“Welcome to Crandall Castle, Scholar; the land of your ancestors.” Mervil’s jaw was tight as he surveyed the area, wading through the sea of green and smelling the air. His hair did not flutter, nor did his cloak, but no one noticed. Brushing his hands across a faceless statue, he gazed into the blue sky for what seemed hours, letting the others wander, but never into the second yard. “These ruins were the only place I knew Arivis could not defile with his foul creatures, be it because of its defences or he has a twisted idea of letting the past stay the way it is. Follow me.”

Mervil took large steps, passing over a small rise of stone in the middle of the overgrowth. “What I am about to show you, you will not touch and will not approach. I have delved into the final chapter of my book to make sure not even the likes of Arivis can come near this place.” Entering the second courtyard and exit led out to rolling hills covered in more ruins, they stretched as far as the eye could see… But what was most important rested in the centre of a small grove of trees.

The Master Sword rested in an old pedestal; vines crawled and tightened around it after several years. Not a touch of rust could be seen, and it definitely was the most beautiful sight in the court. Flowers grew up in a semi circle where the trees ended their circular restraint on the platform.

“That’s..!” Yazstromo peered up at the cloaked man and back to the blade glimmering in the sunlight. He slowly walked ahead but a strong hand clasped his shoulder and pulled him away. “But…I thought it was lost! Lost to all time like King Darik had claimed at the final defeat of Ganondorf!”

“I have kept it hidden for many a year, Scholar. You bandit, I suggest taking leave here and now if you wish not to take part in any of this.”

“But…Railin, I have to find Railin…” Kaz would not look him in the eyes, sheepishly looking at the setting sun in the distance. “I…”

“I don’t necessarily care if you leave or not, make up your mind and prove yourself worth of what the Goddesses’ have ignorantly given you, your life.” Mervil turned to Tap and lifted her face in his hand. “And you, you have to prove to me you are our Innocent.” Yazstromo was ignored but given a word. “No worries, I know you are who I am looking for, although trading that bow was not the smartest thing you have ever done.”

“Thank you…I guess.” The man felt his pocket for any piece of cutlery and found himself out of luck, most of his inventory had escaped him in the transportation. “We must find Railin and Galysses, yes?”

“We must find the Warrior, indeed we must. But he is safe. I have ensured that. We must find the Staff of Moons in his stead.” Mervil walked in and among his spells and touched the Master Sword. “He will pull it and bring us to salvation…Our Prophet decrees as such… I am now the protector of you all.” Beckoning them toward the ruined exit, he stopped the man who had tried to rob him. “Save for you…Always remember that you are scum…”

Kaz stood inside Crandall Castle for a moment watching the others reluctantly walk away; all he could wish in the world was that he had never crossed the tall man’s path.


	13. Section 4.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Blue55
> 
> Note from crossposter: Again, teenagers and silliness.

“Faster, faster! Make it go faster!” Tap leaned happily against he railings of the ship rented earlier by a young sea merchant at a fairly low price, laughing in delight as the ocean sprayed its cool, clear liquid on her face.

Their mysterious, black-cloaked protector had explained the day before about the group’s next destinations of journey. They were to travel to Oracle Islands, the place that held the ancient Silver Tower. There they’d search for the Staff of Moons, the artifact, which legends say, equaled in power to that of the Staff of Suns, the staff that Arivis controlled.

The only differences, really, between the two weapons was they’re source of magic. Obviously the Staff of Suns operated at its best during high noon and on a clear, sunny day. The Staff of Moons, its complete opposite, worked at its peak on a full moon. It was like trying to pit a dog against a cat; each was good in their own way. However, the Staff of Moons did have one great advantage.  
It’s color.

Yes, dear reader, it was a beautiful, radiant silver that glowed brightly in the moonlit sky. Like the sparkles of twinkling stars. Or diamonds. Or coins. Silver dollars. Whichever you prefer. And with that in mind, the group of troopers were able to rest slightly easier because they knew, as did everyone else in the world who wasn’t a fruitloop, that silver would totally be able to pwn that horrific color of yellowish orange. Totally. Little did the group know that their peace on the ship would soon come to a halt.

~~~

It was late into the night. Tap had exhausted all her energy running around and exploring every cubic inch of the ship and had collapsed onto the hammock in the cabin areas, dead sleep. Yazstromo was in the dinning area admiring all the beautiful silverwares. Notice it’s called silverware. SILVERware. That’s why Yazstromo has that weird obsession with cutlery. Because they’re SILVER.

Mervil stood alone at the port side of the ship, gazing at the oceans waves and doing what he did best. Being mysterious and thinking deep thoughts.

Kaz stood on that one place where people with telescopes yell “land ho!” Sorry, I failed boating class.  
Since he’d decided to come along on the ride to find his partner in crime-Railin-he was forced to do various chores on the ship. This part of his job required that he keep on the lookout for Oracle Island and yell “land ho!” and basically make an *Navi* out of himself. He even had a nice little telescope he’d swiped from his little sister on her birthday.

Taking a deep sigh, he leaned against the long wooden pole that’s stuck right in the middle of every land-ho place on a ship. Closing his eyes, he recalled the days events, how everyone had basically ignored him.

“That Wanderer person was the worst,” he quietly muttered to himself, realizing that he’d never actually introduced himself as anything else other than Wanderer or Deliverer. Or he probably just didn’t remember. “I’m not scum! I’m not useless! And I’m most definitely not an ugly little maggot. I have several foundation creams that I apply every morning. I am beautiful! I am loved by all!” He stood up straight and, jutting out his chest, yelled at the top of his lungs, “I AM LOVED! I AM LOVED!” with more O’s and exclamation points than I care to add. Sucking in a deeper breath, he yelled one last time, “I AM LO-AUGH!” Remember, folks, it’s not healthy to go crazy at such a high place with small space. You’re liable to fall.

Tumbling downwards, he landed embarrassingly face flat on the ship’s ground. At least now he understood how Tap had felt when she’d fallen off the tree during their first meeting. Ha, serves him right. He decided that he would just lie there and cry for a while when he heard someone, or something, approach him. The something stood directly in front of him. Slowly looking up to see who’d cared enough to come see him, he gasped in surprise at what he saw. He looked into the face of a gray-cloaked numen. Although actually they didn’t really have a face, since the numens were basically a bunch of floating gas. Still, what he saw scared the sense out of him. A floating gray garment with a glass bow. And to someone who really cared about fashion, the scariest thing is an ugly looking garment. Oh, and near death experiences too, I suppose.

“Uh…g-guys?” squeaked Kaz, slowly backing himself away from the fashion-impaired numen, eyes open wide with fear. “Help, please, ‘kay thanks.”

“Cripes, what the bloody hell do you want now?!” shouted Mervil in a thick British accent, though not turning to face Kaz. Though if he did, he’d clearly be able to see the major pile of crap Kaz was in.  
“You know, Kaz,” replied Tap, who had awaken from all the noise and was playing Craps with Yazstromo (betting silverware in place of money to make it more interesting), “I think people would like you more if you just stopped being a weirdo.”

Mervil bolted upright suddenly. “Wait a minute…” he said, “I feel a presence.” With quick ninja-like movements, he whipped out his scife and surveyed the scene. All was quiet. Too quiet… Then it dawned on him.

“Where’s Kaz?” he barked at Tap and Yazstromo. Both shrugged their shoulders and continued playing cards, a clear sign that they really cared about their companion. Grumbling to himself, he stormed off to look for him at the starboard area. Loud cries for help and splashing sounds were emitted from the ocean. Peering over the railings, he saw Kaz desparetly attempting to swim back to the boat. And Mervil really would’ve attempted to help him too, truly he would’ve. Unfortunately, at that very moment out of the sky hailed a storm of arrows. Now these arrows didn’t have those sharp pointer things at the end, so we can assume that there’s a crap load of grey-cloaked numens ambushing the ship, most likely sent by Arivis in an attempt to prevent the group from getting to Oracle Island and obtaining the Staff of Moons. And when there’s a bunch of numens, it’s battle time!

A trained Numen appeared!  
Go, Mervil!  
Mervil used slash!

Scife in hand and realizing that he wouldn’t be able to use any fire type moves against the numens seeing as to how they were on a cheap, wooden boat, Mervil began to hack and slash his way through the ghost-like numen creatures, knocking away oncoming arrows as he went.

It’s super effective!  
Narrator switched view points!  
Go, Yazstromo!  
Yazstromo used thunder shock!

Yazstromo, hearing all the ruckus, decided to go see what their little Wanderer friend was up to. Actually he didn’t really have to go far to find out, since by now there was already dozends of these creatures around and shooting headless arrows. You’d have to be deaf, blind and just plain stupid to not understand what the heck was going on.

So, taking out his trusty spoon, he quickly uttered a spell and, concentrating all his magic and scholarly skills on the single eating utencil, blasted more than a dozen numens with a high voltage of electricity.

Critical hit!  
Narrator switched viewpoints!  
Go, Tap!  
Tap used pin missile!

Tap, finally realizing that they were in danger, grabbed her smooth red bow and pack of arrows. She steadied an arrow into place and shot it straight through a line of numens. “Ha!” she exclaimed, smiling triumphantly. “That’s what I call fighting fire with fire!” Thankfully, she wasn’t really fighting fire with fire, otherwise the ship would be burning to pieces and they all would be stranded in the middle of the ocean. That, or burned to death.

Dodging the rain of missiles shot from the foes, she kept up the long, tedious process of firing arrow after arrow. This was pretty much a phail, because after a few minutes, she was down to her last few arrows. “Dang,” she thought, frowning, “I knew I should’ve stocked up at that one Kakariko Mart.”

It’s not very effective…  
Narrator switched sides!  
Go, Numens!  
Numens used double team!

“*Navi*, they just keep multiplying and multiplying!” shouted Mervil in frustration, still hacking away at the moment but loosing energy.

“Might I contribute a bit of a suggestion?” opted Yazstromo who was busily zapping the Numens into crispy toast. Cinnamon toast crunch. “What if we got rid of all of them all at once? Combine our attacks, maybe? Just a humble little idea.”

Mervil visibly paused for a moment. “Alright, fine,” he replied. Nothing else seems to be working anyway. You’re the Scholar.”

“I know!” exclaimed Tap. “Let’s form a nice little triangle! Then we’ll blast’em all away!”

“Sounds good,” he replied.

  
Narrator illegally sent out all of the allies at once!  
Go MYT!  
Mervil used focus energy!  
Yazstromo is charging!  
Tap used bide!

The three of them focused their energy on all of the Numens, then…

TRIPLE FINISH!  
IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!

Mervil’s book radiated a deep, dark black that drew in numens every which way, leaving behind nothing but dust. A brilliant array of lightning crashed through the sky, causing severe damage on the numens and a widespread power outage on earth. A hail of arrows blitzed down at high speed and pierced straight through the heart of the numens. When the air finally cleared from all the smoke, they saw that all of their enemies had been obliterated

Trained Numens fled!  
Narrator won $1,000!

“Wait, where’s Kaz?” asked Tap.

Kaz used splash!  
Kaz floundered!

Heaving a lifesaver overboard, Mervil, Yazstromo and Tap managed to haul Kaz out of the barracuda filled ocean. Thankfully, there was no need for CPR as that would’ve been quite the turn off.

Kaz opened his mouth to spurt out a thank you to his rescuers when a loud crack resonated through the air. All of them turned around and realized that, gasp, the ship was breaking and filling up with holes. Arrows had penetrated through the ship’s cheap-*Navi* balsa wood.

“Wups!” chuckled Tap, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “My bad.”

But that’s not all! Do to all the thunder and gusts of wind, the ocean was now a storming women on pms. Waves thrashed every which way, and I mean huge, huge tidal waves.

Yazstromo gave a little cough and replied, “I guess I’m kind of to blame for this as well.”

On the bright side, it would’ve been nice for a pro-surfer. Unfortunately, no one was a pro-surfer and poor Tap could barely even float.

Mervil sighed. It just wasn’t his day. “I hate you all.”

And with that, one of those gigantic tidal waves came rolling over and, hovering over them for just a moment, crashed into their feeble little ship. It was not looking well for the four heroes.  
After a few minutes of under water exposure, Mervil popped out of the water first, gasping in air. Yazstromo was next, using some awfully big spoons to help paddle.

“It seems like we’re a few heads short,” observed Yazstromo.

“We’re here!” yelled Kaz from a distant. On his back was a beat up looking Tap, clinging for dear life. Cling any more and she’d cut off his circulation. Which might’ve actually been pretty good. They could use his body as a boat.

“Great,” muttered Mervil through clenched teeth. “This is perfect. We’re stranded in the middle of the ocean, no food, no supplies and for all we know, Oracle Island could be hundreds and hundreds of miles away! What could be more worse?”

“Wh-what about a b-bunch of barracudas about to e-eat us?” asked Tap, who was shivering something fierce. Mervil gave her an odd expression.  
“You sure have an active imagination,” he replied.

“I wish.”

Mervil took a glance in the direction Tap was facing and lo and behold, dozens of the man-eating fish were swimming at lighting speed towards them.

“Swim, dammit, swim!” shouted Kaz, already heading out himself. Boy, what a trooper.

“We won’t be able to outrun a school of barracudas,” replied Mervil, yanking him back with the group and ever so closer to the fishies.

“What if we fought them?” questioned Yazstromo.

“What are you nuts?” cried Kaz, “We’ll get eaten!”

“Ah, yes, but we could also get eaten trying to flee.”

“Then what do you suggest we do, old man?” snapped Kaz, clearly getting frustrated with his behavior. Yazstromo rubbed his soaking wet beard thoughtfully, eyes starring out into space and gleaming.

“Any minute now!”

“Well…”

“The fishies are getting closer!”

“I…suppose we could try blasting ourselves,” murmured Yazstromo thoughtfully. “Yes, that would work nicely, I believe.”

“You want us to kill ourselves before the fishes eat us? Oh, very clever!”

“Hold your tongue, bandit,” said Mervil. “I think I get what he’s saying. And it’s a good idea.”

“What?!” shouted Kaz in surprise. “Why?”

“Everyone grab onto me”

“You’re nuts, you know that?”

“And you’re an imbecile! Now grab onto me! Unless, of course,” Mervil sneered, “you’d rather stay behind and get eaten. Which is entirely fine by me.”

Within seconds, everyone was latched to Mervil. Muttering a few words, his scife reappeared. He positioned it forward and uttered a quick spell. The scife glowed a steady green. Finally, when the cute little fishies were just about to have a little nibble of dinner, he rose up his scife and striked downwards into the water. A huge wave of energy gusted them backwards through the sea leaving the hungry little ones behind. Of course, it wasn’t good for the environment since the blast left a massive scar on the ocean’s bottom, but hey.

The powerful strike from the scife along with the already raging waters made the others lose their hold on Mervil and they all separated.

~~~

Tap slowly opened her eyes, rubbing her pounding head. Sitting up, she surveyed her surroundings. A couple of palm trees. Sand. More trees. Sand. Some random rickety looking tower. More sand. A tree. Wait, what? Tap turned her attention back to the rickety looking tower. “Hm. A tower. I wonder…”

“And you’re wondering is right. That is the Silver Tower. We finally made it.” Tap spun around and saw Mervil and Yazstromo. “Good to see you finally awake.”

“You guys are okay!” Tap cheerfully gave each of them a hug.

“Well of course we are,” replied Yazstromo, brushing off his clothes from all the sand.

“But wait, where’s Kaz? Again?” Mervil’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He started towards the tower.

“Wait, you mean we’re gonna go without him?” Tap’s voice was heavy with worry. “What if he’s hurt?”

“Then it’d serve him right. Now are you coming or are you going to stay behind and look for your little friend.” Tap hesitated. Maybe Kaz will be okay, Tap reasoned. He’d meet up with them at the tower, maybe, or wait for them around the island. With a sigh, she bounded over to Mervil and Yazstromo, making their way into the Silver Tower.


	14. Section 4.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Forever Forgotten: The Silver Tower

The sea was colder than he had imagined it, or at least compared to how it was those moments ago. How long had it been anyhow? A few hours was his best guess, the sun was vacant, behind a drab grey sky that bobbed along with his body the whole time. Every now and then what felt like sand graced his feet or back, but blindly searching for it afterwards had always turned up nothing below. In fact Kaz had been lying in the small pool by an island the entire time, the faint waves churning him. Opening his eyes had proven too painful the two times he had tried, the sea salts from hours wash and then that of the rushing water was hard to withstand.  
  
His bones and muscles both ached, it felt as if he had finished running thrice about Hyrule without stopping once to even breathe. Each attempt to move failed, but not now, he was going to leave. More than likely Kaz’s clothes would have nearly shattered like glass by the movement of his body and the encrusted salt throughout, but the chill of the water kept them clinging like a second skin as he waded like a wounded animal.  
  
When he flopped down on the rocky beach he nearly vomited from the shrill stop his insides came to after hours moving about. Spare water splashed down on the pebbles and the bandit just lay there getting back his senses about what had happened; flashes of an empty hooded creature kept arriving when he sifted through his last memories. Shaking legs managed to take the bandit to a tree line; driftwood had met a fate with maggots and what appeared to be shattered glass littered a good five feet within the foliage.  
  
Whether or not it was from their wreckage was indiscernible. Shadows flickered in the afternoon weather, but as far as Kaz was concerned, nothing was alive outside of plants; no bugs, birds or animals bothered nature. A rank smell soon broke the dream-like island; small winds were bringing it from straight ahead. Roots and rotting leaves bothered his feet immensely along the way; the compelling action behind his strength eluded him. Did he even want to see it?  
  
A storm had washed a ship into the center of the forest, a long line of demolished trees led to the destroyed and rotting hull. Worn hemp scattered the sunlight all along the forest floor, large gashes in the hull showed a bizarre history of appearing to have been eaten; the ship itself was lifeless, not even a tree or scratch of moss had touched it. Heavy breathing had commanded Kaz’s attention, breathing which did not belong to him. Falling back, the bandit could see a small part of a body poking from the border lip of the old wreck moving back and forth on its own accord.  
  
The Numen was lying face down in the sagging planks; its glass bow was a few feet ahead of it on the forest floor, seemingly knocked from its hand or lost in a fall. Could one of the bastards even trip? Kaz approached it in a half delirious state, nearly drawing attention to himself by falling on a chunk of the ship. The cloak was turning grey and the ghost-like appearance of the creature had gone; it seemed almost as if a body could have been under the cloth.  
  
Scrabbling close on tired heels, Kaz circled the ship nearly impaling his foot on a shattered tree trunk to see if he could manage a look at the remainder of the fallen boat. Shadows in the trees flickered again as the cloaked enemy suddenly stretched an arm out to grasp a splintered pillar as if to get a support. A long sigh escaped its twitching figure, turning and lifting its faceless hood in Kaz’s direction. Chills bit at his spine and he felt almost frozen in place as he could have sworn he had witnessed a flash of a face within the ghostly fabric. It immediately crushed the plank and screeched angrily, collapsing into utter silence. No speck of dust broke from its body.  
  
The decimated ship suddenly groaned to a new rest, cracking a rotted log under its great weight. A decomposed body fell from the shattered Crow’s Nest landing hard against the dead Numen and breaking through the railing. It burst apart in a cloud of flies and bones at contact with the ground. The hood flattened after a human-like skull tumbled out, a burnt hole glaring from the forehead. Rotten bodies were everywhere, had he been blind to it? Slowly overcoming the stench, Kaz relinquished the glass crossbow from the unsettled dirt and backed away from the scene. Men were falling apart on spires of wood from forest to ship alike, their flesh blackened and worn by the bounty of nature.  
  
Warm sun singed at his wet scalp stirring an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. To the left and right of the scene he knew the trees emptied back out to sea, the lifeless sea where his friends either were or were not. Black dots did not break the horizon from what he could see, the only other place they could have landed was this island, wasn’t it? Passing along the beaten bow of the ship, Kaz tried to make out what had once been there as a mark but it had been destroyed in the entry those ages ago, mere splinters for a good fifty metres.  
  
The island life got denser as he moved away from the ship, the wind rustling his slowly drying hair with a weak desire. Ravens called out for food somewhere to the west; soon they’d find nicely repugnant meals lying out in the clearing and they’d fall silent in the twilight. Peace was rampant on the land here, an island seemingly untouched by the civilized world, that very idea made the bandit fear more for his rescue. Or his survival. Something foreign brushed against his shoulder from the darkness of the trees and Kaz nearly flew from the scene, landing hard against his shoulder on another tree firing a blind arrow for good measure. A second object graced his cheek and he froze in place.  
  
Glass glittered out of a body in the trees that swayed gently with the wind, a worn noose tight around his neck. A crow cocked its head from atop the mutilated man and made a shrill cry of annoyance, returning to pecking admirably at a swollen scalp. Above his current location another man had been hung and bound, his body bearing dried puss filled scars. There were bodies hanging on nearly every tree heading toward a second clearing; each wide-mouthed and skeletal, some even remained with a look of absolute fear.  
  
A new glass arrow glistened into its holster, splicing the light in a beautiful spectrum. Foul smells circled around his head making him more and more nauseous as he kept his ground, he had to get away from this…this place. Brambles nearly caught him twice in his breakneck speed, the twigs snapped and cracked under his hazardous weight and wake. Once or twice a branch skinned his cheek or gouged at his sides like they were actually trying to hurt him. The trees burst out into a field of grass and Kaz toppled over a dirt mound filling his mouth with its dampness. Brushing himself off, the bandit looked about; one man was hanging at the tree line on an artificial branch, likely one crafted from the ship. Who could have even survived an accident like that and it was likely much worse meeting this fate on the lonely island.  
  
Towers of ravens ruptured from the centre of the field and flew in all directions with a backdrop of cloudless sky. Beneath the darkness of their wings another tower rose to the heavens in much the same way, foreboding and almost lifeless. The prow of the ship lay struck in a crooked manner, its figurehead replaced by one last man covered in dried blood and beak-holes. Kaz approached only to be turned away by the sight of a single rusted nail bent out of the corpse’s heart. Strands of hemp lay around the central figure the last remains of the man’s noose, taken by the weather and the wildlife.  
  
Beyond the broken neck the bandit could see the old head of the ship, a skull with deep hollowed sockets for effect. It had been a pirating ship and the man appeared dressed as its captain. And from what Kaz could see, this wasn’t like any mutiny he had ever heard about; everybody was dead. The sea spread out beyond the clearing, the island was miniscule and likely not included on any map that would have existed. Fog rose from the waters and shadowed the horizon, on it was another small island and upon it a lurching shadow glared down at the world all around it. The Silver Tower gleamed in afternoon sun, formidable and unforgiving. It was maddening, just knowing it was so close.  
  
***  
  
The bird on his shattered forearm, seven feet away, stood there and mocked him by picking at it. If only he were whole, then the damned thing wouldn’t be so cocky. Although the idea of ripping the blue feathered freak gave him what he felt to be enough energy to move, Galysses would have to wait until Railing returned with more bones. Somehow the magic responsible for keeping the Stalfos warrior together had failed in making sure a meteor-like strike could keep him together. Only his skull, forearm and weapons landed alongside the injured boy, the rest of his body was currently spread through the thick forest, never likely to ever be reassembled again.  
  
If only he could move. Apparently somewhere in the hell that was behind his chipped skull was a pile of Railin’s collection. Once he had brought him a large femur, asking if it belonged to him or not; the hoof at the end wasn’t enough to convince him it wasn’t and twice after he was asked if he were sure. Of course he was sure. Maybe he’d spare the bird for the bandit instead. Either way he was stranded, the rest of the world was going to continue on without him. Yet Galysses could have cared less if it weren’t for a ‘Demon’ running amuck.  
  
“I found your left upper arm, Galysses.” A rustling of bones could be heard in behind his head and the skull tried to hop full circle to see.  
  
“I’ve told you at least a hundred times to show me what you find before adding it to the pile! Get over here with that thing.” The bird watched as Railin’s shadow covered his skull and dangled a large bone in front of the piercing eyes of his comrade. Wet leaves clung to it helplessly and by tipping back Galysses could see it came with a shoulder blade. “Well, it looks like mine. Put it with the others; how many does that make?”  
  
Silence. The Warrior asked again slightly louder than the last seemingly knocking Railin from his half second trance.  
  
“Well, it makes for a lot of bones really.” Bandit and bone walked away, his wounded knee had healed lightly but still put him with a sad looking limp. “I didn’t count; I just know we’re missing your pelvis, your right leg and your right arm. Oh yeah, I found your hands and feet while you were taking a nap. Gods be good, they were spared from falling apart.” Three long sighs came from Railin, walking through the deep forest had tired him out, both from the wear and tear of the previous day and the nervous air that fell all along his path. “I’ll be back real soon, I was pretty sure I saw a piece of bone sticking out of the swamp about five minutes from here, not including the little boy who stared at me for a few seconds. Creeped me out so I left it.”  
  
“I heard little kids are all the time running around in this stupid place.” Galysses opened his jaw and spit out a small rock that had been caught on impact; his partner had to rip him free from a small crater he had made with his face upon awakening. “Kokoorik Forest or something like that, at least that’s where I think we are. Just find the rest before night, it looks like it’ll rain soon and I don’t want to sleep in mud.” Dimming his eyes to near blackness, the Warrior watched another of the little Kokiri boys try to approach him; the last one had tried to kick him and received a nasty bite. Needless to say he had spread the news of the living skull and this one was here to do the same. Well, to try the same as the last. “I’m not fond of sleeping on you either, so get out of here and get the rest.”  
  
Railin had been gone for nearly an hour, he guessed. The little munchkin had left out of uncontrollable fear of getting a bit of flesh taken out of his heel; Galysses wasn’t too fond of the idea either. Nearly complete, so close and yet so far; three more parts and he’d be out of the dump of a clearing. Flowers blowing around in the wind and the birds singing was starting to drive him batty, what he really needed was to kill the stupid bird.  
  
“I found your pelvis, Galysses.” The sun was starting to set and the clouds were covering the bruise of sky when the voice broke him from his long sleep. “I don’t think you’ll need to look at it to know it’s yours, it had a piece of your scabbard on it.”  
  
“Where have you been? I thought the swamp was only five minutes away from here.” He was too groggy to sound angry; the voice was a bit on the squeaky side and did nothing to help him feel better about his naked, powerless state.  
  
“I sort of… fell in.” A small blush covered Railin’s face even though the Warrior obviously couldn’t see his embarrassment or react accordingly. “I couldn’t swim in the thick mud and had to wade around waiting for someone to help. A little Kokiri boy threw me a rope and helped me out. There’s a whole village just an hour away from here too. He took me there to get my knee mended. Boy, it’s so amazing and everything. It’s like Arivis has been sitting on his rump and leaving the world be!”  
  
“And did you ask them to help you search for, I don’t know, two arms somewhere in their forest or something? How about asking for somewhere to sleep tonight?” No answer. “I’ll take that as a disgusting no. Look, the night is coming so why don’t you just lie down and rest for tomorrow. At least do that after you wrap my head up in a blanket.” Railin could be heard scuffling around, dropping the pelvis hard into the pile of bones behind him and dropping himself hard on the ground.  
  
A spinning feeling overcame Galysses as a thick cloth was straddled across him. One last view of pink sky registered and then he was in the dark, wide awake. Railin bent to put him back on the ground but the skull growled out from the blanket. “Put me on my bones fool. Yes, yes, that’s right. Pick me back up and set me on the pile. Leave the forearm again for the night.”  
  
He was nearly asleep when Railin started snoring somewhere a few feet off. All he could do was rage about in his mind and glare at the darkness of his ‘bed’. Ruffling leaves broke his fury and created a curiosity. Someone grabbed him and lifted him up, plopping him back out into the evening air, dizzy and distraught.  
  
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Galysses roared deep into the pile of his bones, wishing he could move and see who had woken him from his half slumber. The snoring of his partner ended with a scuffing of boots in the forest dirt. An oddly shaped hand grasped the top of his head and pulled him into the waning sunlight. Blue eyes observed him curiously, a toothless mouth did not move when the creature spoke.  
  
“I believe you are looking for these, correct?” Unceremoniously plopping him back on the rest of his body, straight up, the wooden creature lifted two bones and waved them around in a boring circle. “I thought they had been lying when they had described something like a Stalfos was out in our forest. You did the little biting number on Mido, didn’t you? I must say you did a fine job with that, the little brat needed an animated skull to nearly infect his whole left leg.”  
  
“Who…who are you?” Railin was scrounged up in a cowardly pose, the little rube had nothing to fear, at least not until the creature dropped his _damn arms on the pile_; making that little muggy face wake-up juice was going to feel so grand. “You look like a…”  
  
“Yes no doubt.” Turning away from Galysses, the newcomer surveyed the bandit with his bored, half open stare. Green ropes stirred the soil in his turn. The blue eyes felt more unnerving than they likely would have been if red. “‘You look like a Deku!’ ‘Are you a Deku?’ I am of the Deku race, Hylian male. I’m just more of a Deku than the rest of them. You can stop shivering and cringing like a fearful rabbit, I don’t plan on hurting you.” Tapping the sword on his side with Galysses right femur, the Deku flicked his eyes from one person to the other. “These are of course yours, Stalfos warrior. We fellow ‘monsters’ need to look out for each other, isn’t that right?”  
  
The remaining bones landed softly with the rest and Galysses roared with delight as the spell quickly reassembled him into his complete skeleton. His right hand still lay on the ground, its forearm still a home to the sickly bird. He needed patience.  
  
“No, I will not tell you my name. I’ll assign you the excuse of not wanting to tell you it, is that fine?” The Deku walked about, staring into the sky, still tapping his sword with a hidden hand. “I’m not sure why I’m doing this; it must be your luck. But I would like to invite you to my home for the night. We rarely have visitors just fall from the sky you know.” He started toward the swampy area and looked back at them from under his hood. “You’re here for a reason and I’ll be certain to have you explain yourselves before you’ll be leaving our forest.”  
  
Galysses changed his gaze over to Railin and shrugged. “We’ve got nothing to lose, really. I’m all for not heading out into the ‘dangerous world’ right away. Aren’t you?” He retrieved his forearm from the ground and smiled, attaching his hand to finally feel whole again. _I have you now._  
  
“Not at all.” The bandit followed after the strange visitor first, a plume of blue feathers itching against his face. Railin spun around and looked for the source, coming up short. He furrowed his brow in thought and stared at a motionless, smirking Galysses as if to move him with his mind.  
  
“What are you looking at?”  
***  
  
“Sit on that rock.” Mervil swung a blind arm out behind him at Yazstromo and Tap. After exploring their island for a good day they had finally made amends on continuing to their goal. The Silver Tower was more breathtaking than they had imagined, with floors that extended to the heavens all encased in a shining coat. Sunlight waned and bent about it, casting it into a faint shadow, just enough to take away the purity of the sight and replace it with foreboding black. He peered back at them from his hood and narrowed his gaze. “Of course, any time you_ feel_ like moving away from the Tower.”  
  
“Fine, Wanderer, if it’ll take those spines out of your arse.” The Scholar’s hands were sweating just by looking at all the pure silver bricks that had built the massive pillar. Silverware, cutlery, utensils, any and all of them would be the most magnificent in the land if they were made from those gleaming squares. “Hurry, hurry, no one likes an **immortal **to raise his temper, girl.” Yaz took the Innocent by the arm and led her to the drab worn rock they had been assigned to. Looking above he could see a few ravens circling the top of the Tower and disappearing into its top; back into the forest he could hear the rummaging of wildlife, but they too were only of black feathers.  
  
“Whatever Arivis says you can believe. One thing is very certain that he remembers many things in the same fashion as I do.” At that he sat down in the grass and gazed thoughtfully higher and higher up the Silver Tower, the cool salty breeze had done nothing to its glamour for all these years. “We have to wait until the moon starts to show in the sky before I can do anything about my spell on this place. I’m surprising even in myself that it’s still working after five hundred…years.” Slowly he set his aged spellbook to his right and ran his gloved fingers down the spine.  
  
“Well as a matter of fact, I do believe what Arivis says. You’re immortal.” Looking up the Tower as well, Yazstromo spread himself flat against the large seat and sighed longingly. “Makes me wonder why you didn’t keep fighting the ravenous monster back in the town, rather than take a beating and leave.” His eyes tried to see if Mervil were watching him, but his nose was nearly the only scenery at that level.  
  
“I can live forever as long as I do not die. If I die then the rest of you will not be able to fulfill your part in the legend.” Flexing his hand, the cloaked man stared hard into the sky trying to locate the faded image of the Moon and came up short. The sky remained as blue as blue could be. “This book made sure of that. I’ve lived many centuries and I want you all to be sure that Arivis isn’t like the other tyrants your kingdom has had to face. There is a reason that Crandall is the way it is now. The Demon set forth events that led to its demise and your kingdom’s birth.”  
  
“Understandable, I mean really, no one could have guessed he was cunning enough to pull off what he did that night, correct?” Turning on his side and resting his head in a hand, Tap realized her stare had been met and immediately changed focus. “I didn’t even know this place was even real, always thought it was a myth until you proved me wrong, Wanderer. All your legends and stories have been cast away forever, isn’t that right?” Tightness in the air become evident but only for a second, the breeze dropped to a chill and returned to its normal self.  
  
“Those are both right, Scholar, but I am not too fond of the people trying to brush away the past.” Mervil stood and left his spellbook on the ground, opening it with a small touch of his hidden boot. “The war with Arivis nearly crippled Crandall beyond repair, if it hadn’t been for the betrayal of the Advisor to our last king, we could have come back from it in full force. I’ve seen your personal tyrannical foe, Ganondorf, and he seems adequate enough to serve as Hyrule’s villain. Too bad he’s dead or I could have seen the true range of his power.”  
  
“I’m not sure if either of you understand just what Arivis is. He is a Demon who will stop at nothing to make this realm into his own. The moment he would have found the Staff of Moons all hope would have been lost. I am setting the legend forward in retrieving those destined to lead us against the last force of evil to stand up to the ‘power of the Goddesses.’” There beyond a moving cloud the faint outline of early Moon came apparent and Mervil began to pace closer to the Tower. “I know Arivis is that evil, he broke from his perpetual prison in the north to finish what he started. We’re not going to let him do so.”  
  
“This is all very interesting…” Tap’s voice gained strength and finally escaped her usual tight lips. “But Arivis said the legend was… as old as sand and as you. Are you even sure it’s true?”  
  
“Of course it is true, girl.” The cloaked man did not turn to face her, his voice slightly distorted from distance and blocking cloth. Slowly he lifted his gloved hand and removed the dark covering. Yaz felt his face fluster and then lose colour when all he could see was the door of the Tower where the hand should have been. “I was there when it was first crafted. My book gave me all the information I shall ever need. It may be demonic in nature but I have used it well. The legend is very well a part of me in a sense, as if I helped make it. Once it was just word on people’s tongues but finally they started to record it, and I have the very first one of those recordings.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean that…it’s right…”  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself in guessing, in thinking, that you are right about this legend being wrong, Innocent.” Mervil placed his absent hand on what appeared to be an all encasing shield at the front of the door. Lights flickered all along the structure and a skeletal imprint once displayed itself. “I suggest you all close your eyes if you value your sight. I made sure that if someone managed to break my seal on this place that they would never be able to purge the Silver Tower.” Yaz hesitated for a moment, wishing to see the true unveiling of the building but knew he had more things to do in his life with his eyes. Inspecting his silverware collection every day was on the top of that list.  
  
There was no noise for nearly five minutes outside of the ancient language spewing from Mervil’s mouth. When he was finished there was a blinding white light that made it almost too painful to be around even with eyes closed, but it had made no noise to make sure the spell was gone or weakened. A bizarre smell of rain filled Yazstromo’s nose and soon the sky had erupted in a sort of gale. The Wanderer remained bracing the winds, his robe flapping wildly behind him. In a short moment he pulled his empty fist back and slammed it through the rain covered shield. Like glass it shattered into the air spewing centuries old dust back into nature.  
  
“I suggest we move inside now before it reinstates. We’ll be able to leave it with no hindrance later on.” Mervil took a breath of air and water, almost showing a smile at the splendour he seemed to witness in it. It was raining, nothing was amazing about that. The inside was just as breathtaking as the outside had been; at least Yaz knew it should have been.  
  
Glass littered the torn rug and bones from what seemed every creature were strewn in every direction. At first he had pulled back his hand when wanting to touch something, but Mervil apparently cared less. The vase was splattered with blood, covering must of the Crandallian writing and images. Out of the entirety of the relic the only thing Yaz could make out was a single dragon wing. _Damn it all_. He placed it back on the creaking pedestal and followed relatively close to his partner.  
  
“What happened here?” Tap’s face was pale at the sight of the conditions within the main hall. The cloaked man was already halfway up a staircase when she started to speak. “Was this from the war? The war your people had with Arivis?” A booming angry laugh filled the empty chamber, the first sign of true emotion in the tall man.  
  
“Arivis didn’t wage war. He waged a slaughter against us using his magic and his dominated demons.” Yaz could feel himself being left behind and quickly ran to get a better ear on what his main source of information was stating. Most of it was too interesting to pass up. “We didn’t have anything to combat him outside of a few sorcerers who tried to protect key areas. The war was indeed fought in both of the Towers; I was a soldier before…”  
  
“I wouldn’t want to go there or on the left staircase.” Suddenly the topic changed and stuck Yazstromo in his part glide to the centre piece of the hall and Tap thinking about keeping far from Mervil for a moment longer on the left staircase.  
  
“Wait a moment.” The Scholar neatly plucked a piece of a sword on the floor and placed it in a small bag, gazing up at the main doors on the floor above. “Did you say Towers? There are more of these beautiful things?”  
  
“There isn’t enough time to stop and chat about the history of an entire Kingdom, boy.” Mervil sounded hollow at the mention of calling the older man a boy, but he knew it was right, he was like a child in comparison to his age and Yaz definitely didn’t care. “When the Moon disappears in the morning I will not be able to get us out without the Staff. This place is permanently protected by my book, when the Apocalypse comes this will be the last building in all the realms to fall.” Opening the door after he was rejoined with the two he spoke very quietly. “Some of those bones down there aren’t relatively old I must admit.”  
  
Something didn’t settle right with Tap about the mysterious figure. Outside of thinking she should know him; he seemed very elusive and secretive, even dangerous even. Whether or not he was on their side she couldn’t really tell. Maybe the fact he had chose not to search for Kaz was clouding her judgment. Now the idea that he used this place as some sort of sick prison made her place Mervil in a different light.  
  
“As long as we keep moving I will explain things to you, curious Scholar.” Mervil walked proudly down the lavish and dark hall. For light he had struck his scythe back to life once more. It was nagging how it seemed to spread the shadows far and wide as if they were afraid of the weapon that could not touch them. Or could it? Yazstromo furrowed his brow as he slid to the Wanderer’s side, everything about him was too cryptic, he wasn’t sure if it made him distrusting of him or taken in awe.  
  
“Yes well, you were a soldier. Do you mean to tell me that someone with your magic ability was used just to wave a sword around like a toddler? Arivis even recognized you as a great foe, so I doubt a single pitiful run-of-the-mill guard was able to send him to ‘the North’.” He made quotes in the air at the mention of the ‘legendary’ place. Each time someone cursed out another person in Hyrule they threatened them with having to go to the ‘North’, wherever in the realm that was. It was only a legend…  
  
“I was a soldier until I fought alongside the great Guard Captain Alexander, fabled greatest swordsman Crandall had ever witnessed conceived. We were in the Gold Tower, the Golden Haven, fighting against the forces of Arivis. It was one of the last places he had not claimed in all of Crandall. Even the good King had been stationed there for protection.” A long winding staircase seemed to spin down as if from nowhere. “We’re going outside; please keep your hands away from the edges of the Tower…” A wide door flung open at the command of nothing.  
  
“What?!” The oldest looking of the three came to an abrupt halt, glaring out into the dark star bitten sky. “It should be nowhere near night. We’ve been walking for twenty minutes in this musty old place.” Yaz could see out to the ocean, two other islands were nearby all covered in forest and fog. At his feet another rust-free sword shard attracted his attention. “But it does have its charms I suppose.”  
  
“I’m protecting this entire building, remember Scholar?” Mervil scratched his jaw and directed them up the curving staircase of the exterior of the Silver Tower. “Whoever entered the Tower and were imprisoned would never have enough time to reach the top and take the Staff, the key to leaving. The Silver Tower being the maze it is, they would each receive the chance to leave by the following Dawn if they found the Staff of Moons. If they did not however, they could never leave, with Staff or not.”  
  
They were buffeted by strong nightly winds as they wound a full circle around the Tower’s walls. “I gave this Tower more than it needed to remain untouched for eternity outside of those who know how to get through it before my secondary spell trapped them forever. To speed up their time without them ever knowing, it broke their spirits and made them unable to harbour a try at the Staff.” Mervil checked the horizon for light and continued to see it as a black line. Moonlight shone off of the Tower like it were a pond and below the wind rushed waves against the headlands.  
  
“You made a game out of it.” Tap didn’t look him in the eye in case somehow he could do something to her from a single stare. “Did you just place people in the Tower to watch them try to get out only knowing you made it impossible?” She clenched her fists and couldn’t look into the wind anymore. He was still turned away from her, his gloved hand on the elaborate door handle, shaking it slightly.  
  
“I placed criminals and delinquents in here, creatures, black magic users and the immoral. Anyone who ever got in here had it coming; they deserved it, death as a return for the sickening life they had used.” Mervil pushed the violet coloured wood of the door inside, the stench of blood stronger than ever on the other side of the casing. “Each of the Oracle Islands turned into a separate Hell for those with black hearts. I acted as the punisher of their deeds. And be it they did not learn their lesson they did receive their pain and distress they had ever caused, surely. After the defeat of Arivis’ army in the Gold Tower I turned my attention to him and to this Sea.”  
  
“I will admit that I enjoyed watching those bastards now and again. So strong in life and weak in death. People need to use what they have wisely or someday I will show up on their doorstep…” Mervil turned away from a certain corner of the room and pointed at one straight staircase at the end of the hall. “In the Gold Tower I…found my book and I…found myself.” Directing them he gave a slight look behind him again, neither Yaz nor Tap knew if it were them or something else. “Arivis never won another battle. And now that he has returned, we must make sure that remains forever the same. Quickly, follow me, it has been a good time since I’ve explored this place, my skills are rather rusty.”  
  
Each island was a sort of hell. Yazstromo suddenly felt great pity for anyone that had ever committed a wrong deed and filed away a note to come clean to an Inn owner he had stolen a knife from years earlier. The Silver Tower was like an impossible and taunting maze. What else could have Mervil manifested in this section of the sea? He certainly had enough time to be crafty and imaginative. There definitely was a cruel air following him he had to admit…  
  
They were silent for the next three floors. Stories had fallen hollow and questions had flown to the crevices of the Scholar’s mind. Stained glass windows followed them now, wherever in the mighty behemoth they were. It had seemed like the rain had started again when they started to dot with moisture. Tap’s eyes were wide when she returned them from the splendour of the glass when she had realized that it was blood dripping down them.  
  
“How many of us are there supposed to be?” Yazstromo‘s eyes flickered happily when Mervil stopped at the next set of doors to address him in a proper form rather than talk while he strode forward. “I mean, I know various things about this legend from what I have been told, but I only know of a few titles…”  
  
“There are many, but that does not mean we will find the rest of them. Or need to find the rest.” The bloodied windows had cracked letting more of it pool at the bottom. “We three are only part of those that account for the many important ones. The only one that really matters though is the Warrior. Galysses is that warrior, I can feel it, and that is why I sent him to another one of us, to keep him safe for a moment longer. Our job is just beyond this door.” Mervil sighed and swung the doors open slowly, bright moonlight shone onto his robes, making his burning scythe jobless. It disappeared into his hand, allowing for natural light to take hold.  
  
“Beautiful.” Yazstromo could feel the chill of the outside air brace against his skin once more. Ravens were nesting up on the high pillars. There were even more bones way up here. The signs of war were obvious, some of the towering marble had been destroyed and the dome ceiling of the topmost area of the Silver Tower was riddled with holes and ominous gashes. “It looks like we made it in time.”  
  
_“Congratulations on making it to the summit of the Silver Sanctum.”_ A booming voice shook the remains on the scarred floor. In the centre stood a towering creature clad in heavy armour, a sword rose up from its hands just touching the edge of the glowing image of the Moon. All were shadows around him, a pair of red eyes blazed within the helmet. Slowly it creaked to life, no body was inside, made sure due to the light escaping through the plates of rusted armour. _“It is my duty to make sure you do not pass me, criminal. If you can defeat me I will allow you leave, for only the Master of this Place would allow such a thing.”_  
  
“Never you mind, Vargz. It is I.” Mervil walked out into the centre of the platform and placed a hand on the living armour’s sword. “I have come to finally retrieve the Staff. You have paid your debts to me and may finally rest.” The creature guffawed a single Crandallian word and immediately fell into a pile, his spirit gone from the guard armour. “You are coming yes? I need the Innocent in order to unlock the Staff.”  
  
Tap froze in place. For a moment she was confused from the strange event that she had heard, the idea that Mervil had enlisted someone to pay off their deeds for him. Either it were in a form of selfishness or of compassion. It didn’t matter now that she had the chance to make this all successful or to make it a complete failure. “I… But we don’t know if I’m who you’re looking for.” His normal hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her hand pulling her with him across the Tower top. Yaz sighed and followed along out of slight interest.  
  
At the end of the dome a pedestal rose covered in ancient runes, scrolls and scriptures. “All you need to do is place your hand on the documents and I will say the words.” Mervil could see the doubt in her eyes and rolled his own, looking into the moon and its waning position. The dots of the islands were invisible in the glare. “You are the Innocent, girl. Just place your hand here below mine before our Scholar dies from those sword pieces he keeps picking up.” Yaz looked up and smiled awkwardly trying to focus on his dream of fashioning them into knives to help his stock back up.  
  
“But I thought you didn’t know…that I had to prove-,”  
  
“I can only explain it to you that I understand you are the one I am looking for, in the same way that I know Galysses is our warrior destined to pull the Master Sword and finally kill the demon.” His eyes were only gaping holes in the reflected light and gave him an even more frightening experience along with his scars. Without really noticing it, she had placed her hand on the pedestal feeling the old paper beneath her fingers as something very cold and very foreign. The rough hand of Mervil spread over hers and he called out into the night, to the Moon for something that could only have been the Staff they had travelled quite easily to retrieve.  
  
“Troubling, but I guess I should have known.” Mervil turned back to the pile of armour that had been Vargz and Tap nearly removed her hand as his grew painfully cold. “What a disaster… this has turned out to be.” A pang of failure shot through Tap’s whole body, but she had protested, she had been right and he was wrong about her. “We’re not through.” At the slightest movement of her hand, Mervil had clamped it hard against the stone platform once more. It cracked.  
  
Lights broke from the pedestal openings, golden and white together. Mervil pulled the Innocent back with him, watching each section move away and sink into the marble in a full flush. Struck into the centre of the lights was what only could have been the Staff of Moons. A simple blue rod bearing a fashioned diamond on the end, sat in the circle of light from the Moon at an angle.  
  
“Just as I had feared.” Mervil let go of Tap’s hand and wrapped his fingers around the shining long object. Someone began to ask what the problem was but he soon answered in an empty tone and showing the staff in a different pose. “The King did make it here back then… I had asked him to separate the Staff into two pieces and hide the other somewhere else to ensure Arivis could never get it.” His gravely voice continued as he observed the obvious half he was holding, the diamond itself was even cut in the same way. Beside the colour and the stone, it was a replica of the Staff of Suns. “Although I never doubted him, which was just before Arivis had struck the heart of the Kingdom, to think he managed to go so far out of his way.” Mervil clutched it tightly, making his knuckles go white in fury and nostalgia.  
  
“That’s just brilliant.” Yazstromo dropped a small piece of steel and walked over to the two, one silent and the other brooding about his mistake or his respect of a King gone by. “Let me guess, the second half is somewhere only the King knew or somewhere _very perilous and deadly?”_ A piercing blue glare came his way but he cared not about the temper he knew was hiding under that dark hair. “Well?”  
  
“The other half is likely on the other side of Crandall, in the Golden Haven.” The Deliverer walked back to the centre of the Silver Tower’s top and craned his neck to the full moon above. “That place is not protected either. As long as we keep this one Arivis will not be able to fulfill his desire; however, it is still very important that we find it. Yet…” Suddenly he spun from his northward position to a south-eastern one. “The other Staff segment might have been placed among the final Tower… The Bronze Construct seems just as likely and it is well protected by the spells of my book.”  
  
“So where are we going to head then?” Plopping to the cold stone, Yazstromo laid out a cloth covered with sword fragments and began to sift through them. “We don’t have all that long to really decide. The sun is coming up at that.”  
  
“We’re going to head to the closer of the two. The Bronze Tower rests in the middle of the Forgotten Plains, an unforgiving and cursed desert; it is a very…sacred place.” Mervil looked at the staff and at the sea longing for it to not have been in the King’s power those centuries ago to fulfill his wish. “We need to get sea-bound and back on the mainland to get there.”  
  
“The Gods will guide us to safety…” Tap piped up in a nervous tone, the relief she had received to know she hadn’t failed the group miserably was almost too powerful and kept her shuddering lightly.  
  
“That makes me feel worse about this, especially if you’re asking the same Gods to help us that are allowing this to continue, that are letting all this happen.” In an almost overdramatic stance, the Wanderer slammed the Staff of Moons into the floor. The group was flung to the bottom floor once more; the chandeliers covered in cobwebs greeted them with small swaying motions. Walking in silence Yazstromo made one last survey of the main hall and took one last relic to keep, the vase on the golden pedestal.  
  
Entering the night air it was obvious that they had not been in there for long, even with the sped up circumstances they had just went through. Sleep tugged at Tap’s eyes, she suggested a break until morning to which Mervil uneasily allowed, she could see he was exhausted as well. As Yazstromo stationed himself a home by one of the trees in the Silver Tower’s clearing, she tugged her red cloak tight about her throat and closed her eyes. The brightness of the Moon off of the Sanctum made it uncomfortable at first to nod away into dreams, but soon all hopes of rest left her in a realization.  
  
“All of these islands are cursed by your magic…” Tap spoke quietly to the turned back of a sitting Mervil. He had just sat there gazing at the broken Staff for however long it had been since they had made it out. “That means that Kaz might be out there on one of them…” No one spoke for at least a minute, the wind had died away and the rushing of the waves started to lull her back to sleep. Mervil turned his head just slightly onto his shoulder with a bored and analytical look on his face.  
  
“Then why don’t you ask your Gods to protect him?” With that and a small tinkling from Yazstromo’s collection, the Wanderer went silent, sloping forward with the Staff and a normal scythe across his lap.


	15. Section 4.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original note: *It seems like that “all-powerful” plot guide has determined that I do this "short" indroduction[sic] piece. So…listen to the bird tweet. EDITED 2014 for some minor clarification!*

Night…had he truly been staring at the tower for this long? Yes, it was awe-inspiring at first glance, but it seemed the lad had fallen into a trance. He sat on the deck of the pirate ship with his legs underneath him, staring up at the Silver Tower as it shimmered and almost glowed in the moonlight. To the Watcher, the figure who had chased him throughout the island, he seemed dumbstruck, no doubt because of all the death and horror he had seen. She knew she was at fault for having scared him, but on this bloodied island where death clung to every tree, it was hard to not insight fear.

Naomi sighed and walked onto the rickety deck of the ancient pirate ship. The pranks beneath her feet creaked, most were more than half rotten and one even fell to the floor below. The lad did not stir despite the loud _thump_ it made. Then, she reached out a hand and touched his shoulder. He jumped, turning around slowly, his face turned and his eyes widened. Slowly, he backed a way, glancing down at her talons and crawls.

“What...what are you?” A quiver infected his speech. His large, hazel eyes never leaving her hooded face except to glance at her the long spear. "Mervil's accomplice? Come here to finish me off, eh?"

“I won’t harm ya, kid.” She said, ignoring, for now, the idea that _she_ would work with Mervil. Those days were long since past. Lifting a hand, the Watcher took off her hood, allowing her long, golden hair to flow in the wind. Yet, the look of horror did not leave the man’s face; if anything, it seemed to intensify it.

"Demon! Back!" The kid kicked at her flimsily.

_Dear gods, this boy..._ Sure, people had called her an "angel", but a demon? She rolled her eyes.

“Nayru above! I’m not like that “man” who cursed this place. He’s Death himself. Not the ‘Wanderer’, the ‘Deliver’, or whatever else Mervil's come up with from that foolhardy legend. Look around us, kid, can't you see what he's done?” She moved a hand, pointing at the pirate and then towards the ‘hanging trees’. "Not even criminals deserve to be strung to trees and left to rot.”

She shook her head. Atrocities like this, even after what these men had done to Alvz. Ruthlessly killing the guilty was why she could not see Mervil as the man he once had been in days gone by.

“You knew Mervil?” he asked, tilting his head. The spark of life returned to his eyes.

“Knew?” Naomi frowned.

“He…was one of my companions.” The lad bowed his head. “But, we were attacked by Numens and then our ship sunk and we were chased by giant barracudas."

In an almost comic gesture, he spread his hands apart, identifying just how large the 'barracudas' had been. Naomi, however, doubted that mere barracudas could destroy a ship, menaces that they were. They were probably some kind of warped beasts.

"After that, I landed here. Alone. They're dead, miss. Fish bait. Shark bait. Bodies sunk to-"

“Enough.” She pounded her spear against the ground. The lad twitched a little, giving her weapon another weary glance.

“Death doesn’t die that easily. Don't worry for him or your mates. They're fine...mostly.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm, though the news that Mervil had brought a group together made her uncertain. What good could come from Death collecting followers? “Tell me, where was that old fool taking you?"

“The Silver Tower, we were supposed to collect this Staff of Moon or some sort of treasure.” His eyes sparkled when he said those last few words. A thief, well, perhaps she could rescue him from Mervil's ire. If the old fool figured out this poor kid might run and try to steal the Staff from his possession, Death would have his head. Her gaze wondered down to his chest which peaked out beneath his torn, half-buttoned shirt. Yes, the fiery mark was there deeply edged into his tanned skin.

Naomi clinched her staff in anger.

“To my ship, then. He'll need our help.” She turned, expecting the ex-thief to follow. “Except if you want me to fly you over.”

He ran after her. "Fly? Oh, you're some kind of wizard too, huh?"

The Rito responded with a harsh laugh. Lifting her sleeve, she revealed one wing; a golden feather floated away in the wind and off into the darkness, landing on the impossibly calm sea. In the distance, the moon hung close to the horizon, soon, the first rays of dawn would shine forth upon the waves. The lad covered his face, stiffening a yawn as his eyes studied the jungle before them. “Where's your ship, Cap?”

"Naomi; don't call me Cap."

"Fine, Nao."

“Naomi," she said, glaring. Not a soul was left that was aloud to call her by that nickname. "I'll protect you, just like I took care of that Numen hunter.”

She stopped, recalling how frightened he had been earlier. Sure the kid might be showing a bit of courage now, but his sudden talkative state seemed linked to his anxiety just as much as his personality. “I could just fly us it would take--hey, where do you think you're heading, mate?”

He gulped. "Name's Kaz. I'm not your mate."

He began to walk away but she soon caught up to him. She placed her hand on the tip of her spear, making it glow brightly in the darkness. The lad stepped to the side, folding his arms around himself at the sight.

_The lad must not be able to use magic. Can't blame him for fearing even a simple spell like this._

The spell itself was met to light their way through the pitch black woods and to provide a source of light that she hoped would keep the Poes at bay. It was probably best not to tell Kaz about those; he would probably scream and bring them hither in a heart beat. Their best hope was that Death’s curse on the island had not made the poes resistant to the simple spell. Some of the scum he hunted had used magic and could feel its presence... Naomi spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps a trick of the moonlight.

Behind them, she heard a low moan. Naomi grabbed Kaz's sleeve, tearing the fabric.

"Kaz. Be quiet."

He shivered, complying. The trees stood like dark sentries in the night, ethereal blue light filling in the gaps between the their thick trucks. Kaz met her eyes, the Rito engulfed him beneath a protective wing, pointing her spear at their hidden foes.

"Undead fiends," Naomi's voice grew harsh as she slipped into that ancient tongue, "hide no more and come out from the shadows in which you dwell."

A phantom lantern appeared followed by a set of headless red eyes. She pointed her spear at the Poe, causing it to reveal itself. It stood ten feet tall clothed in flowing white robes, its head concealed beneath its hood. Even still, she could see both its eyes and its razor-sharp grin crossing its formless face. With a shrill, cold voice it began to speak, the words escaping without its mouth moving: "You shall give the boy to us, he has stayed past the allotted time."

Naomi gave the Poe her fiercest glare. "Death's rulings do not stand against me."

"So be it, Goldenwing." In the Poe's other hand, a scythe appeared. It sliced the air with its blade, summoning a horde of the undead. The corpses tied the trees stirred and leaped down into the foliage below. Redeads arose from the ground. Ghostly lanterns lit the jungle, sitting it ablaze with blue, orange, violet, and green lamps, their poes materializing behind them. "If you can escape the Isle of the Dead, then he is yours."

"Naomi...?" She tossed her spear onto her back then gave the lad a quick nod.

The Rito leaped into the air, and in one swift motion, grabbed Kaz with her mighty talons. Cutting through the canopy above them, she flew out of the jungle depths. The Poes followed in her wake, snickering, [REDACTED], and snarling around them. One sloped in close, thrusting both its lantern and flaming spear at them. A crystal arrow pierced its left eyes, throwing the Poe into the forest below. In reply, a shrill scream escaped it as it disappeared into a trail phantom smoke.

“How many do you have left?” She asked as she dodged another Poe, he took it out with two shots. “Boy!”

“Ten?”

“Wait to shoot!” commanded the Rito.

“Yes ma’am.” He jiggled beneath her as a Poe took a swipe at them. She fired a wing shaped disk at it, killing it in midflight.

Naomi launched forward, flying madly as the Poes followed them. On the other side of the Isle, she could see her ships sails…surrounded by translucent figures holding lanterns, spears, and scythes. They were surrounded, the host behind them pushing them onwards, the force before them gathered to strike.

“Get your arrows ready to fire...” She focused her magic, sending it to fill the lad’s arrows and her wings. Taking a deep breath, Naomi dove at the Poes surrounding her ship, striking them with a blast from her wings as Kaz fired rapidly. They struck a path through them, killing Poes as Naomi seemed to turn from Rito into a phoenix of light. She dropped Kaz onto the deck, landing beside him in a flurry of white and golden feathers.

They looked up. The Poes disappeared. Maniacal laughter reached her ears. The Poe from before stood there in its solemn white robes, its never fading grin still fastened to its face.

“Get off my ship.” She snatched her spear off her back, jumping into the air and plunging towards the Poe in a mad dive.

It dodged, swiping at her with its scythe. The attack messed by a few inches as she slammed the butt of her spear against her foe. It disappeared, reappearing behind Kaz. She spun. It placed its scythe on his neck. The lad’s eyes widened in fear.

“Get off!” She came to a stop, however, heart hammering in her chest. “You have no right!”

“If you can break the rules—“ She fired a beam of light from her spear, making the Poe drop Kaz as it barely sidestepped into the ether. They looked around the ship, coming closer as their foe refused to appear.

“He is mine by right.”

She crouched in a defensive stance, fully aware that her magic reserves were running near low. “Parlay.”

The Poe reemerged. “What would you trade?”

“What! She doesn—“

“What your kind crave. A portion of my life, a way to get off this Isle and live anew,” she said, sticking out her hand. The Poe took her hand, encasing it in its cold grasp. A chill raced up her arm and down her spine as the grin on the Poe’s face grew. It vanished from her ship. With a sigh, she turned, leaning heavily on her spear as she gazed as the sun rose over the ocean, painting it in shades of pink, orange, and gold.

“Is he…dead?”

“No, and wherever he is now, he’ll someday bring atrocities anew,” she said, her voice sounded worn to her ears. “C’mon mate, we won’t want to stay here long. Even daybreak on this place is bound to have ceaseless horrors…”

She motioned him to lift the anchors. The boy, however, stared at her. “You don’t—“

“Kaz.” He placed a hand on her arm. She glared down at his hand.

“I did a little sailing for a year. Worked for some pirate with Railin, though we never saw his face.” Naomi nodded, but said nothing, the lad rambled on, directing her to her cabin with a gentle tuck. “And this ship, well, she’s nice. It can’t be that far to the Silver Tower, right?”

“You saved my life,” said he, smiling. “I might as well return the favor.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving her alone as she sat on her mattress. Instead of resting, she turned to gaze out her window, watching the Silver Tower grow closer and her looming meeting with the man who deemed himself Death. That monster that she had once labeled ally and friend…


	16. Section 4.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Yazstromo
> 
> Original note: Sorry to all for the...somewhat extreme delay. I've had a lot on my plate, what with school wrapping up. Anyway, here it is: the next fabulous installment of Forever Forgotten!

Yazstromo's eyes wandered longingly across the horizon. If he did that, he could at least avoid looking at that precious Tower; though, it had the added side-effect of keeping his thoughts on their immediate problem. "I hate to be a bother, Wanderer, but...how exactly do we plan on getting off this island?" The question did wonders for his companions, who left their brooding reveries and instead began to look around them in much the same manner as Yazstromo was looking ahead. “I was hoping you might have some suggestions, Scholar. You’ve been full of them for the better part of our journey.” Mervil glared at him disdainfully, but before he could re-enact the macabre fantasies flashing in his mind, Tap piped up. “Well, on our way in I think I spotted a wreck sitting on the coast. Maybe one of you could...do something...make it sail again?” She looked longingly at the two men, before sinking to the ground. “Best idea we’ve got so far. Let’s go.” Mervil picked up the Staff and scythe, as well as Tap’s spirits, and began moving along the beach. “It’s not like looking at the water is going to make a boat come along any faster. Wishful thinking’s only going to get you so far, Yazstromo.” At this, the old man, now looking towards a nearby island, smirked. “Oh, ye of little faith.”  
  
*****  
  
With the little light available, Kaz could just make out three shadowy figures standing on the shore. A broad smile broke across his face, with the thought of what Mervil would say when the “useless piece of scum” gets them off the island, what Yazstromo would do when he sees the expensive-looking fork found on the ruined ship, and what Tap...well, hopefully they’ll all be happy to see him.  
  
*****  
  
“Well, Kaz, I have to say I’m almost impressed with you. You’ve finally done something mildly useful.” Mervil glanced around the ship, while Yazstromo admired his gift and Tap wandered around the deck. “It’s...so beautiful...”, Yazstromo whispered, a tear in his eye. “I’d say at least 150 years old...perhaps older. And still in such perfect condition.” He looked up. “Kaz...I think I love you...”  
“Gee, thanks Yazstromo. Say, has anyone seen Tap?” The ex-bandit scanned the surrounding deck, before hearing a sound from inside. “Hey! Guys, there’s someone on board. Here, in the captain’s cabin.” The three men ran inside, Mervil leading the way, Kaz behind. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. I didn’t just find the ship. Someone came along and rescued me from the island. I think her name was-“  
“You.” Kaz stumbled into the cabin, slightly out of breath. “No, her name’s Naomi.” The cloaked man swung around, annoyance clouding his face. _Of all the ships..._ “I am not sharing the same boat as this creature. We’re throwing her overboard.”  
  
“Wait, what?” “You can’t just do that!” “She saved my life!” “That’s a terrible suggestion.” “Now, matey, I thought that, if you didn’t want to share a hull with a person, ‘twere better manners to get off yourself...’specially if that other person’s the cap’n.” At this, all eyes swivelled to the bed, where the Rito had propped herself up, and was slowly getting to her feet. “Kaz, matey, you ever heard of keeping the noise down when someone’s asleep.” She looked around. “Oh, we hit shore already? Then these must be your friends, including...you.” Losing any sign of weariness, Naomi jumped to her feet.  
“I already said that.” At once, his scythe appeared in his hand, glistening menacingly.  
“I never thought I’d ever see Death stroll along my planks...I would’ve thought he had some sense.” She spat on the floor, with every ounce of disgust she could manage. “Monster...you deserve ten hangings for what you did to those people.”  
“And they deserved worse! If anything, I was too kind.”  
“What right have you to pass judgement on others?”  
“What right have you to get in my way?”  
“Say, Tap and Kaz, did you know that sailors don’t say ‘right’? They say ‘starboard’. Why don’t we examine the starboard side of the deck up close?” Three pairs of feet scurried out of the room, as if to escape the heat from the smouldering glares emanating from the two now silent figures.  
  
“And anyway, you devil...if you hadn’t been so busy punishing the wicked, ‘praps you’d have noticed that the winds are a-changin’. Something’s happened, and it smells rotten.” A smirk crossed Mervil’s face, if but for a moment. “Perceptive as always, Naomi...” She shivered. “Kaz may not have mentioned it to you, but I am trying to put those winds right...eliminate the “bad smell” that’s set your nose...beak alight.” Naomi stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man she despised, before turning her head towards him. “I wish you people had said so sooner. Anything I can do to help out, I will.” She walked towards the door, stopping for a moment. “Besides, at least now I can keep an eye on your methods. Remember, _Mervil_...just ‘cause I’m goin’ to help you, doesn’t mean I’m goin’ to trust you. Your actions are irredeemable.” At that, the Wanderer was alone.


	17. Section 4.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Bowser the Train
> 
> Original note: (2 sections being posted. Hurray for SD!)

Part 3 of Allanon's story, The Tortured Soul  
  
The sound of the rain on what was left of the rooftop was deafening. It had rained for a full week without stop, and it showed no signs of relenting anytime soon. Was it just him, he thought to himself, or was the rain slowing down? In a flurry of movement, Allanon prepared the spell that would protect him from the time disturbance. He cast it just in time, for the Kokiri settlement outside his bubble of protection began to waver, and then, in an instant, time was frozen. Stepping from his bubble, he dispelled it, and, promptly, time within it was destroyed.  
  
He looked over at N'nkvus, rusted still and frozen in time. He began casting the spell that would clean the rust from his friend's body, knowing full well it would do no good. Such a noble race, but one with a checkered and bloody past, for they had killed all those involved in creating them, and vowed the destruction of the Sheikahs. However, they had failed in their task, mostly due to magic. It had been others who destroyed the Sheikahs.  
  
Many spell had been lost since then, and the Hylians were extremely vulnerable. Much of the only remaining magic had been hidden by the fae, only to be bestowed on those without dark intentions. Still, there were other ways of obtaining the magic arts, and many used them. It would be a long time, if ever, before magic would be lost forever to the world.  
  
The rust fell from N'nkvus, and Allanon departed into the deathly still shadows of the Lost Woods.  
  
  
  
**Part 4 of The Tortured Soul**  
  
Thunder roared in the distance. How long he had been frozen in time, he did not know. He stepped forth from his alcove, the faltering warmth of the remaining essences of Time beneath his cloak almost imperceptible. The essences of Seasons had failed entirely, and the faltering of time was fading what was left of the essences. He pulled forth his staff and walked forth, searching for N'nkvus.  
  
He had carried his staff ever since it had been given to him, long ago, by his village elder. He was told it was part of a set, that the other staff's power waned with the coming of night, when his staff's power was at its peak. Likewise, his staff's power waned during the day, and was most powerful on the night of the new moon.  
  
How fitting that he had become a creature of the night.  
  
He pulled forth the gems he had collected thus far. The balance of blue, red, and green gave him hope, and the contrast of black and white gave him purpose. He would reunite the shattered land masses.  
  
The only task left to him was to lead Galysses to the Master Sword, and the Terran Diamond would be reunited at last. Yet if he failed, the very fabric of the world--  
  
He whirled around, and lashed out with a blade of silver light from his staff. The moblin never saw it coming. He picked up and pocketed the rupee that it had dropped.  
  
He remembered something - no, not quite, it was not quite there, on the edge of his conscience. Something to do with staves, the Terran Diamond, the very nature of the world.  
  
Try as he might, he could not remember. Wind began to blow. The first drops began to fall, and a cry of sadness, of mourning, was barely suppressed. He feared he could not stop either of the two futures awaiting the land, that either the flood of darkness or light would envelop the land, and the Terran Diamond's components would be lost forever. He could not yet see the future he was fighting to create, only the two that it would split into in mere decades.  
  
He did not know if he would - or even could - succeed.


	18. Section 4.7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Deku Lord

Dawn found the travelers in the Deku's hut, discussing the recent events at a small, round table in the his abode; over their sleepless night, the recent events had been explained in excruciating detail, with little movement from any of them. "Are you sure you haven't got a taller table somewhere?" The stalfos felt horribly cramped in the hut, especially sitting at that table, for which he was much to large.

"No." The reply from the mysterious wooden man was abrupt, and soon after he left the table to fetch some morning leaf juice for himself. "If you'd like, we can leave here; I've got enough provisions for the three of us."

"So soon?" Railin's inquiry was met with a rather harsh gaze from the Deku, who continued packing food into a small haversack. "Yes, I've got better things to do than to sit here and waste daylight in a house built for one person." As they left, the Deku's ears (or whatever it is he had) were filled with the most piercing scream, one he was sure emanated from the depths of the Shadow Temple itself. "Can't you hear it? That awful screaming... AGH." He burst into a run, with the bandit and stalfos in hot pursuit, each with a puzzled expression on his face.

"What the hell was that?" Galysses blurted out; he had finally found the Deku on his knees near a deep hole, the bottom of which could not be seen. Rising to his feet, he addressed them in a rattled tone. "Unfortunately for you two," the Deku began, speaking at great length as he rose to his feet, "this appears to be where we part ways." At that, the Deku sprung into a backward flip, and plunged into the darkness of the hole, whose screams only he could hear.

The bandit and stalfos looked at each other, then at the hole, which, to their surprise, was sealing itself up by some arcane force. As railin looked back to Galysses, he instead saw an empty forest, and could here only quickened footsteps fading into the distance; he followed.

***

It was a dark and stormy night, with only the prolonged sounds of war echoing from the other side of that stone building there... Wait a minute, a stone building? As the Deku regained his senses, he became aware that he was not in Hyrule anymore; he was not, in fact, even sure of the time period that he might be in. As he approached the building, he began to think that it was not just some old fort engaged in battle, and as he looked from the carvings of warriors in the walls to the gold-trimmed ramparts, he realized that this was the castle from the story that his father had told him all those years ago, back in his own land. He was standing in the ancient kingdom of Ikana, and he suddenly remembered the voice screaming in his head earlier. However, before he could ponder why he had not remembered the legend in the woods, he was hailed by a soldier in the watchtower, which stood high above the massive gates and was illuminated only by the flame from the dim torches on either side. "You there! What business have you at the rear gate of our fair castle?" The Deku, however, could not quite make out his question, and only looked on at the tower in a somewhat puzzled fashion..


	19. Section 4.8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original note: Here ya go. *dies somewhere*

The sun had set and evening had come again on those aboard Naomi’s ship, The Lady Chief. Kaz had asked Naomi if it was named for her, but after a sharp glared, he had decided against asking more questions and retreated back to the wheel. Yes, it seemed that the old “shut up”-look still worked…too bad it would not work on Mervil as well, but some things were too good to hope for. He was Mervil after all.  
  
Naomi sighed and leaned against the taffrail. No, this wasn’t safe, and yes, she knew she should be resting, but she did not give a damn. How much could that girl—Tap—know anything about Rito physiology? Naomi doubted that she had even seen one of her people before…! What made her an expert of the ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’ when it came to healing her people? Even though she was right, the worst thing she could do was walk about, causing more damage as the 'deal' worked its charms. Damn…she wished that someone other than her knew something about the art of healing magic, then she would not have to worry about that problem, but whatever the Poe had done, she doubted it could be that bad. It hadn’t intently killed her after all.  
  
But, there are some things almost as bad as death…she shivered at the thought, but was broken from her thoughts when she heard footsteps approaching her. Was it Tap? Kaz? Death? No, it was that old man—Yazstromo.  
  
Naomi turned, frowning at the old man and the fork he carried in one hand.  
  
“What’re you doing up, mate?” She asked, frowning.  
  
“Me?” He gave her a half-crazed lopsided grin. “I was thinking! You may say its quite interesting to practice…”  
  
“And wondering why the hell an injured mate is up so soon?”  
  
“Oh no, that's none of my business," he answered all too cheerfully. Naomi rubbed her temples as she felt a headache coming on. “But I must say, you have some swell forks! Kaz found a gorgeous one in your galley. She's over two hundred years old!” He vanished the fork like a weapon, grinning with an absurd amount of glee.  
  
“Its part of a sit from a mate, older than you think."  
  
His eyes widened. Examining the fine handy work. Light magic could do wonders for preserving metal. "I had a good friend once." She said, thoughtfully. “He loved those stinkers.”  
  
“Stinkers!” The scholarly man gasped. “How can you call such lovely forks ‘stinkers’? What an outrage! You…young—“  
  
“Those are some of the newer ones.” She would’ve folded her arms, but…she still needed to use her spear for support. “Kaz didn’t look that good if that’s all that he found in the galley.” His eyes sparkled and she smiled slightly. “I'll tell you where I hid the rest if you're tell me why you're about. The truth, please.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow, but instead of letting out some clever jest like she expected, he complied with her request: "Why is there such animosity between you and our Wanderer? It's like you know him. And to know him, well..."  
  
“Are ye the scholar, Yaz?” It was a valid question. She had already guessed that Tap was the Innocent and…Kaz; he could have been the Redeemed. Perhaps.  
  
“Yup! What? Was it that hard to figure out?” he paused and stared at the ocean with a long thoughtful gaze; to offset this, he scratched his head, “Now, what were we jabbering about before you asked that, ah yes, why is there such enmity between you two, lass?"  
  
“Lass?" she asked in amusement.  
  
"Like a girl, oh wait," he said, meeting her eyes. "Ah, yes, that would make sense."  
  
"He’s a vile man.” She turned from him, watching the moon as they ship sailed onwards. “He thinks mercy means you hang men if their too wicked, or Mark them and cut their throat if they do wrong again. He thinks himself Death, but who gave him that title? What right does he have to judge men in such horrible ways? He's not even a king."  
  
"Different philosophies, then?" he mused, “So, that’s all? No grand stories advent—“  
  
“Why does there have ta be a better reason?” She glared at him, but when Yazstromo was curious not even Mervil could frighten him. The Rito sighed. "You see, I knew that scum before he was so consumed by that filthy book of his. Before he wouldn't have gone off and killed those men because he thought he had a right to judge them for what they did.” She shook her head. “He didn't always don himself in that black cloak and act like Death himself. He and I were once soldiers in Crandall’s army in the wars long ago.” His grin broadened. Oh, damn, why was she telling this story to the nosy, senile man anyways? "By the gods!"  
  
“Well, if someone _your_ age still believes in them." She rolled her eyes. Then he jabbed her in the ribs. "So, why did you split up?”  
  
“What? We weren't in love.” She sighed. "I was married then. Whatever makes you think...!”  
  
"I never suggested it!" he said, laughing, "but don't look now, Captain, it seems your old not-friend has arisen from his slumber."  
  
She turned. Mervil stood behind them having silently crept on deck as they were chattering. He drew his cloak around him, encasing his body within the dark fabric, giving him an imposing air. His blue eyes grew even harder. Yazstromo hurried off, mumbling about forks and spoons and finding more in the galley. Purposefully leaving the them to speak in private.  
  
“What are ye doing around, soldier?”  
  
“It has been awhile since we fought side by side in that war.” He stated, coldly. “It might be better if you decided to stop living in the past, Captain.”  
  
He then left her in silence, disappearing below deck and leaving Naomi staring in disgust and surprise. How dare he say that! She sighed and decided to go to bed; it seemed that not even the sea would give her peace this night.  
  
***  
  
There was no light. Only darkness, a consuming darkness. Naomi could not recall when she had entered into it or what had happened before. It seemed like an eternity that she had lived here, in this darkness. This darkness that was deeper than the darkest night, but what was night? She could not recall. She could not recall anything from her past life, all she knew was darkness. No light.  
  
Then, suddenly, like when the sun first appeared over the world, there was light. It seemed brilliant at first, but then she saw what it was, it was only a lamp. A lamp in dark. That was getting closer…and closer…and closer…and, she suddenly saw what was carrying the lamp—a Poe.  
  
Naomi grabbed for her spear, but it was not there. She felt defenseless. How had it entered her dreams?  
  
The Poe laughed. “Why do you think you can harm me child?”  
  
“If anyone is a child…” Naomi said calmly. “It would be you.”  
  
“Yes, you are ancient,” the Poe remarked and Naomi was sure it smirked. “Far more ancient than your kind should be…”  
  
She folded her arms.  
  
“It does not a wise man to see through the masquerade.” The Poe floated forward. “Now does it?”  
  
She shivered, what was this ghost getting at? Yes, it wasn’t that hard, but why would he cared, she no longer cared—  
  
“But…you do care, Naomi.” She trembled slightly. It had read her thoughts. Perhaps it was only part of her conscious and not a Poe at all. “You do. You’ve wished to take your own life more than once. Once because you feared living forever and the second time…because you felt you had failed him. That the man you loved could not forgive you for what you had done.”  
  
“Get off my ship.”  
  
“We’re not on it now, are we?” The Poe touched her gently. “Naomi, I only come to tell you what this deal has cost you. Perhaps, I am only a fragment of your imagination as you believe or, perhaps, I am a spirit who has come to reveal the truth. What does it matter?"  
It circled around her once, then twice, and then it meant her with its brightly glowing eyes. “You must remember your deel, Captain? But it is not just a deal, it was a curse, you know.”  
  
She stared back, refusing to respond to its taunts.  
  
“That’s not much of an answer…”  
  
“It’s the only one I’ll give your kind.”  
  
“Is it?” It said. “Well…that is a shame, but let me say this, Lady Naomi, you’re eternity in this world has ended….your life will be gone.”  
  
“Do you think I fear death? I fear nothing.”  
  
“No one fears nothing, Naomi, we wish that we did, but that is never the case…” It turned aside, peering into the everlasting darkness. Then closed its eyes. “And the only death that you fear is the one most dishonorable. The one you thought could never again come your way…”  
  
“That’s impossible…”  
  
“Is it…?” The Poe inquired. “Look in the mirror when you awaken, and you shall see that I speak the truth. There is more to that deal than you realized, Naomi. Magic that has made you a mortal like the rest of us, and, perhaps, more.”  
  
Suddenly, a bright light awoke her from her dream. She blinked a few times and threw her blankets on the floor beside her. It had been a long time since she had last over slept, but then again, she was exhausted but, then, why did she ache. Why did she feel older? She had noticed it even when she spoke with Kaz after she saved him, and when she spoke with the others on the deck or the galley. At the time, it seemed like simple exhaustion...  
  
But, if the dream was true…  
  
She shivered at the thought and stood, walking over to the mirror on her above wash stand. Naomi swore. Age lines, wrinkles. She looked like a woman in her late thirties. She plucked a few strains of grey out, looking at them as they shimmered in the sunlight. Quickly, she caste a light ward upon herself, making sure that she appeared as she had before, young and spotless. Some would call her vain, but the last thing they needed was unnecessary worry. She opened the cabin door, Tap ran into her with a thump, and then the girl blushed slightly in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Miss Naomi! ButIhadtocheckonyou, youhadntwakenupforliketwodaysand—“  
  
Naomi laughed. “I don’t know that language, lass.”  
  
Tap blinked, took a long breathe, and then released it; repeating the action several times. “I just said you were out for almost two days.”  
  
“I was..ill…” Naomi said, or, perhaps, her body had needed time to adjust to her new "age". “Don't worry, I'll give that kid a break. Tell Kaz to get some sleep."  
  
“Alright Captain!" Tap skipped onto the desk, acting as though she had no worries in the world...  
  
***  
  
Two weeks, that was the time that it took them to reach the shore. The voyage had proved uneventful except for Mervil's deepening frowns and their awkward confrontations.  
  
She sighed and looked at the beach below. The desert seemed flat, there was no sign of the Bronze Tower (or the green plains, for that matter) that had once marked this landscape. No, the fields had past, and Mervil had doubtlessly hidden the tower. The Forbidden desert, she decided, had been aptly named by Death.  
  
“Hey!” Tap called up at the Rito woman. “Aren’t you coming Naomi?”  
  
“Yes…” She leapt off the ship and glided to the ground, landing softly on her feet. “C’mon, let’s go…”


	20. Section 5.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> ~Section Five~
> 
> Forever Forgotten: Aczaros

The voice of the watchtower soldier drifted down to him among the drowning, droning rain. Did he just ask a question? No, it sounded like a command, a shout and nothing more… There it was again, registering in the daze he had been trying to shake ever since he had arrived with his face planted into the mud. The Garo Blade rose proudly at an angle, glinting softly in the rain.  
  
“Answer me, Scrub! What do you think you’re doing slinking around the -,” A heavy crash resounded out into the darkness. Violet plumes of lighting shot through the jarred pebbles and dust from the grand castle. The Deku Lord could have sworn he had seen a human-like body flying through the storm… Loudly cursing as he was nearly flung from his balcony by the shock of the explosion, the soldier’s patience was running thin. “I won’t ask you again; what is your business at our Gate, in this time of war? Must I do your race a favour and come down to carve ears into your bloody head?!”  
  
  
No answer, again. He knew he shouldn’t leave his post, especially with his being the only soldier reserved for the rear Gate. Some would have loved the luck for such a placement against the hooded foes, but Aczaros lived for the taste of combat, the fear of death. Perhaps after they realized how valuable a soldier he was they would begin showing respect in where they placed him; maybe the next time he’d end up _fighting_. The worn steps of the watchtower flashed under his greaves and the torchlight mangled his shadow across the cold brick; maybe he was just seeing things, they did say that fighting them was something you’d never experienced before or experience again…  
  
He slowed when he arrived at the plank door; across the muddy yard was the outline of the second turret, completely empty. Surely the hours alone in the storm hadn’t affected his mind that much, could they? _Whoever it is, they’ll regret making me walk out as a human lightning rod_. Aczaros attempted to weave quickly through the rain to investigate the shivering lump of creature; fear welled into his heart each time the bruised sky lit. _Only the weak feel fear._  
  
  
The Deku Lord felt a sharp edge pierce into his side. Blinking the water out of his eyes and pounding his fists into soft earth, he could make out a strange silhouette. The armoured man bent over and wrenched his shaking arm away, pulling him up and dumping him in a puddle so he was upright.  
  
“Maybe now you’ll be able to talk.” Aczaros reluctantly reached forward and uncorked a dribbling stream of mud from the Deku Lord’s mouth. “I will use force if necessary. Just answer the question, Deku.”  
  
“I…” Words sounded alien to him for some bizarre reason. The Deku Lord could feel the haze around his mind ebbing. Every sight and sound became sharper and clearer with every passing second. He finally noticed how beautiful his surroundings were even in such horrid conditions. “I bring word from the Deku King. I used the forest and waterways to get here. He speaks of reinforcements that he plans to send help as soon as possible. The Senate was-,”  
  
“Wait a minute…” The soldier slowly drew his blade from the scabbard by his thigh. “The Deku King was assassinated by his son three days ago. You can’t tell me that you’ve taken that long to-,”  
  
“Yes, the weather has been horrible and I have been dodging rebel battles that want to avenge his Highness.” With such a close shave something must have jarred back into his brain, making the new world he found himself a complete reality. Someday this skill was going to fail him. “Swelled streams and slippery conditions nearly took me-,” he let his voice trail off in the rain when a glinting blade filled the gap between the two ‘soldiers’. The face of the opposing knight was hidden in shadows beneath his odd helm. A bit of his mouth was visible, a bit of a glint in his eyes broke into the darkness.  
  
“Who are you?” Aczaros carved out a thin splinter from the exposed part of the Deku’s throat while he spoke. “I might not look the type, but I know when someone is lying to me.” He applied slightly more pressure, not sure exactly what to do. “This kind of storm only rolls in when the Garo show up to fight. This has only been going on for four hours; good weather or not, you still wouldn’t have arrived.”  
  
He watched as the glint of an eye summed his body, the soldier was taking a good long look at his face, his garb. Of course, maybe his appearance would be enough to let him pass, it was too late to fight back now with the Garo Blade just out of reach. Perhaps he would deem him a Deku warlock, if such a thing existed, and let him go out of fear or respect…  
  
“You don’t look like the other ones. Blue eyes.” Aczaros watched the shorter creature follow his free gauntlet, appraising the air in between them. “I’ve never seen a Deku with blue eyes before.”  
  
“Yes well, you won’t want to kill who could be the only one to own a set.” The Deku Lord placed a slightly hidden wooden hand on the steel connection, slowly pushing it away from his throat. “I need to speak with someone in power as soon as possible. Can you make that happen?” Strain returned to his muscles, Aczaros was still reluctant to remove his blade. “I’m not sure if you understand. There are things I need to discuss right away.”  
  
“You can’t be trusted, Scrub.” Twisting his sword back into position, the soldier could see a temper flaring within his odd company. Blue eyes or not, magical or not, it didn’t make sense for him to come. The Deku King never liked Ikana enough to send troops to aid them. Besides, any troops would have been dissolved after his murder, and if this one was on his way here when that happened… “You don’t have any reason to be here…” And that was when he noticed it.  
  
He knew right away the disaster of a plan he never created had just blown up in his face. The Garo Blade sealed his fate as an enemy; no amount of talk could change an Ikanian mind and there wasn’t any time to even do try.  
  
“That’s an impressive disguise, Hood. I guess you bastards aren’t as tricky as you like to make us believe.” Aczaros pulled his sword back and took a long arcing swing; he enjoyed making a flashy kill. Wait until the rest of the Guild heard that there was actual danger at the rear, maybe after disposing of this Garo they would finally understand how useful he could be in battle. Perhaps they would give him some damned company for once when they realized the Eastern side wasn’t as secure as they liked to believe.  
  
The swing was too high, or too long, Aczaros couldn’t really place blame on either. His foe had reacted much faster than he had anticipated, buckling his knees, dropping and taking Aczaros off of his feet. Mud skulked at the Deku Lord’s feet when he leapt for his drenched Garo Blade. Nearly before he could react, the Ikanian was back on his feet, cursing him in their forgotten language. Sparks tore into the air when they finally came back to personal distance, although hampered by dozens of pounds of armour; Aczaros was just as agile as his Deku opponent.  
  
“You almost got me with that story of yours, Garo. To think I almost let in one of _your_ kind!” His sword slammed against rock, sending pain running through most of his body. “You’re a quick one aren’t you?” Intentionally scaling his sword across the rough terrain, Aczaros could watch as a single rain drop struck the life out of every showy spark. Shadows stretched all about, but he hadn’t a trouble finding the creature, its blue eyes revealed every place he attempted to run to.  
  
“No, you’re just painfully slow.” He slid across the small expanse between them, watching Aczaros face come into view at the arc of a lightning bolt; bloodlust had swept its way into every nook. With the accuracy of a blind man, the Garo Blade missed the glinting chest plate and skewered an exposed shoulder. Aczaros fell in agony, the darkness of his blood swirling with the thick muck around his knees. “You will let me inside the Castle without interruption or notification, understood?”  
  
The Deku stood over him like he was some kind of superior being. Flinging his gauntlet free of the blood, he could see a sad twinkle in the opposition’s eye. The soldier knew that the punishment of letting in a Garo would be worse than dying now. But he couldn’t allow for either possibility, he had to kill it. Aczaros battered the Garo Blade with his stained glove, quickly retrieving his fallen weapon and hacking at the thick rain in desperation.  
  
Shaking legs carried him along, his head felt light on his shoulders, he feared capsizing from weakness. Nothing was readily observable. _Get a hold of yourself. He cut you, so what? You didn’t come so far to be felled by a little Deku-wannabe. Where the hell…_ Aczaros stumbled forward from the sudden addition of weight on his back, catching his body with his muddy blade.  
  
“You gave me no other choice.” There was the empty snapping of armour connections. The soldier let out a sharp breath as the cold steel of the Garo Blade tunnelled its way deep into the flesh, scraping his chestplate. Deku Lord wrenched his sword free, letting his opponent fall silent to the mud below. Violet lightning glinted from absent green eyes and the rain water curdled dark with blood.  
  
Huddling in the cold, he watched the flashes of war choke the sky until cannon fire, as if from the heavens, blasted apart the watchtower. At least he let the man die honourably. Splinters fell solemnly with the rain… A hush fell behind the rain; weapons fire and exchanging slowly muted, which was when the rear gate was thrown open, spreading warm and welcoming light out into the yard. The Deku peered upward when it stretched as far as to drape his shoulders and the face of the dead Aczaros.  
  
Three members of the Guild rushed out to the two, glancing at the fallen Garo Blade a few feet away. Luck was on his side again.  
  
“I did all that I could to kill the Hood, but he," the Deku motioned toward his dead 'comrade', his blood on his hands... "...he fell before I could finish the deed…”


	21. Section 5.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Blue55
> 
> Note from the crossposter: Nothing is wrong. This is how the chapter was originally formatted.

Tap sat leaning against a small Joshua tree, spiffing up her bow with a cloth she’d forgotten she’d been carrying around in her pocket. The bow’s redness had slightly faded through the course of the group’s adventure, but it still shone a bright red. After rubbing furiously over a stain that had come from who knows where, she sighed, fastened the bow over the long brown strap that wrapped from her left shoulder to her right hip and looked up at the scenery before her. According to the position of the glowing sun, it was about mid-afternoon. The rest of the folks were scattered about, taking a quick break after a tedious three hour hike through the Forbidden Desert, which, oddly enough, didn’t take on the scalding hot qualities of that of a desert. Sure there was sand wherever you turned your eyes and cacti sprinkled randomly throughout the plain like pretty green confetti. But it wasn’t…hot. _Not that that’s a bad thing_, Tap thought, getting up to stretch. _It’s actually nice and breezy. It’d sure suck to have to travel with the heat distracting you. Because then you wouldn’t be able to fight creepy desert monsters as awesomely. Like Gila monsters. Or are there Gila monsters in deserts? Huh…_  
As she pondered this, she silently watched Yaz debate with Kaz about…something, she couldn’t hear what. She saw Mervil sitting crossed legged under a tree similar to hers yet heavier with shade. He looked like he was brooding in that pose with one hand supporting his head. Oh what the hell, let’s just say he is brooding, what else would Death be doing? And Naomi, that one peculiar Rito and captain of the…what was the ship called? The Cooking Chef? She thought that was what Naomi had said. Anyhow, she stood a little farther to the left of Mervil with her arms crossed. Tap noticed that she’d occasionally glance at Mervil from her side, or to be more accurate, glare, and then hastily look away, angry and yet somehow…confused. Tap scratched her head, brows furrowed. She wondered what the deal was with those two. She got that they’d known each other for a long time, but why they were always so hostile and cold to each other remained a mystery to her.  
She shrugged it off and decided to see what was going on with Yaz and Kaz when a sudden wave of nausea washed through her and forced her to kneel back down. Not wanting to see the world around her spin dizzily left and right, Tap shut her eyes, took several deep breaths and waited for the queasiness to pass. This was normal. She’d always gotten these short bouts of sickness every now and then for as far back as she could remember. The first she remembered the blasted nausea appearing was a few weeks after Xanath had officially allowed her to live at his place and that one was pretty excruciating. She didn’t bother telling the others since it wasn’t actually life threatening or important or anything. Through time, the head and stomach pains had grown easier to tolerate and Tap would just lay back and wait for it to pass before carrying on with whatever she was doing. This one, however, seemed to stubbornly cling to Tap. Black edged her vision and she slowly got up and shook her head to keep conscious. Odd, it was never this bad before. This was starting to test her patience. She didn’t have time for headaches. Look there, the group was already gathering. Probably discussing the itinerary or whatever. Tap pushed herself forward from the Joshua tree and shakily attempted to walk to her fellow adventurers. She saw Kaz cast a curious glance and walk towards her. Tap forced on a reassuring smile. The last thing she felt was the world flip before her.  
  
``  
_“There you are! What are you doing up there? Don’t you know you might fall and break your neck or something?” I looked all the way down from my old oak tree and saw him peering up at me, squinting his eyes in protest from the bright, early morning sun and stifled a smile; he was still in his light blue shirt and pants, his pajamas. He wasn’t even wearing any shoes. His short black hair was all mussed and tousled up like it always gets after he just wakes up. Had he come all the way out here at this time of day looking for me? He looked really scared. Well he wasn’t about to drag me back home. Not back to…her._  
“Shhh! Go ‘way! I’m tryn’a hide!”  
“Why’re you hiding? C’mon, get down already!” He looked around nervously. Was he expecting someone?  
“No. I don’t wanna. I’m gonna stay up here forever. So there.” I stuck out my tongue at him and hunched back down on my branch. I thought I heard him sigh a little.  
“Okay, why don’t you want to come down?” He crossed his arms.  
“Go ‘way.” He stood there quietly for a while.  
“Is it because of…” I knew what he was about to say next but I covered my ears with my hands before he could finish and squeezed my eyes shut.  
“Shut up, shut up! Go ‘way! I’m hiding!” He quickly held his palms up to signal that he’d say no more. I slowly lowered my hands.  
“Alright, how ‘bout this. You come down an’ I’ll…teach you how to make and string a bow.” I looked at him in surprise.  
“Really? You mean you’ll finally teach me?” All those years of me begging him for lessons finally paid off. I gave a bright smile and stood up on the branch I’d been sitting on.  
“Now hold on, I’m just gonna teach you how to properly carve a bow out of wood and string it. I don’t want you running off on your crazy little adventures. And I definitely don’t want your mom finding out I offered to teach you.” He looked nervous again. He was always so nervous. I decided to make his life easier and leaped down from the tree, which nearly caused him to have a heart attack, I think. I didn’t realize eyes could get so wide. “You’re going to catch your death pulling those kinds of dangerous stunts. I hope you know that.” I stuck out my tongue again and playfully punched him in the shoulder.  
“Remember, you promised to teach me.”  
“First, let’s get you back to your mom. Then I’ll teach.” He held out his hand for me to take. I paused where I was, then shook my head sadly.  
“I…don’t wanna go back…”  
“I know…” I looked up and saw his soft brown eyes. “But you have to. You can’t just live out here.”  
“Sure I can. I’ve been living out here for almost three hours now.”  
“… We are not telling that to your mom.”  
“She’s not my real mom.”  
“No, but she’s your mother all the same. And she’s probably worried sick for you by now.”  
“Very funny.” I let out a breath and brushed my black bangs out of my eyes. “Alright, fine. Let’s go then.” I watched him smile in relief.  
“Thank you. Finally you’ve come to your senses. Now let’s get going.” His hand gripped mine.  
“You promised.”  
  
``  
Tap blinked once, then twice. She waited for her vision to focus then slowly got up to a sitting position. It was already early night and the stars were just now beginning to show their faces. Tap looked around, confused, and noticed Mervil sitting on a rock nearby in front of a small fire. The others were also close by, although fast asleep.  
“Oh,” said Tap, still a little dazed. “Good…” _Don’t say morning, idiot._ “…evening.”  
“Had a nice rest?” Mervil quietly replied. He made no eye contact with her, just kept his eyes on the flaming pile of wood.  
“Uh…yeah. Had a weird dream.” Long awkward pause. Tap shifted uncomfortably, then decided to sit in a kneeling position. After a while, Tap decided to initiate another conversation.  
“So, uh…what-”  
“You fainted. Kaz attempted to wake you, but you wouldn’t budge. He insisted we postpone our journey and stood guard over you until I told him to get the hell out of my way and go to sleep already so he’d be somewhat useful to us when we arrive at the Bronze Tower.”  
“Oh. That’s…” _Creepy. Weird. Alarmingly frightening._ “…That’s very nice of him.” Mervil said nothing. “I’m sorry I delayed our trip.” She heard him mutter something about the world being destroyed, then fall quiet again. _Oh_, Tap thought. _He must be brooding again. I shouldn’t disturb Death when he broods. You might die and that wouldn’t be good._  
“Tell me something,” he said suddenly, interrupting Tap’s broodings and sitting up straighter.  
“Hm? What is it?” _Are you done brooding?_  
“Do you know anything about the war with Arivis?”  
“Arivis? Isn’t that the guy who went a little crazy at the Autumn Festival?”  
“The very one.”  
“No, sorry. Can’t say that I know anything about a war with him.” She frowned in an attempt to think harder. “Can’t say I know much about anything dealing with history.” She watched him nod his head slowly. He still eyed the fire. After a few minutes, Tap thought he was done talking so she got up to stretch; she’d been asleep for quite a while. But then he continued up again.  
“Do you find it unusual that a place such as the Forbidden Desert is not in the slightest bit hot?”  
“I actually find it quite lucky. It’s nice that this desert has decent weather.”  
“Well, you can’t tell now,” he began, “but this desert was birthed from mountains.”  
“Yeah? That’s awesome. But then…” Tap looked around her. “Where did all the mountains go?”  
“They were destroyed. From the past wars.”  
“Oh…”  
“It’s why this place isn’t as insanely hot as the other deserts.”  
“But that’s a good thing, right?” Mervil ignored her question and instead appeared to Tap to be looking at the vast, sandy plain before them.  
“One day, this desert will change back to regular land.” Mervil glanced to his side, finally making eye contact with Tap. She still got the same shivers down her spine when she looked him in the eye, but somehow it wasn’t as strong as before. Perhaps she was getting used to his presence.  
“Why don’t you get some more sleep,” he said silently. “It’s still a long way to day break.”  
“I already slept. I’m not tired.”  
“Earlier. What happened?”  
“Oh, I dunno. It happens. Don’t worry about it.” Tap gave a slight smile to reassure him. Mervil shrugged and laid down, his back facing Tap.  
“Your turn for watch.”


	22. Section 5.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Yazstromo
> 
> Note from the crossposter: Changed the format a little bit to be more readable.
> 
> Original note: Look, I'm not even going to MENTION the extended delay on my secti- oh, I see what you just did there. Touché...

_Stairs, a long flight of stairs...thin beams of light pierce through the darkness, enough to see the way up...have to reach the top, can’t go on...that fight was so tiring..._  
  
At the top, a room, sconces blazing, providing the light...how far underground is this place? Something ahead, on the far side of the room...a small pedestal, not that far away...on the pedestal: a book...it seems so very ancient...the air around it...almost shimmering...radiating with heat, or power...what secrets must this tome contain? A hand reaches out...curiosity engulfs it...a rustling as the pages fall open, and then...  
  
Mervil awoke, hunger gnawing at his mind. It was odd; he had never dreamed of _that_ before. After all, few waste those precious fantasies on fact, on already-happeneds. Yet that wasn’t the strangest part. What Mervil most wanted to know was why that dream seemed to have more detail than all his previous recollections of finding the book. That moment in his life had always been one of the most hazy, as if the trauma of the event wiped most of it from his memories. So, why was it so much clearer now? He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

“Have trouble sleeping, Wanderer?” Mervil focused open the source of the sound, and saw Yazstromo looking back at him, stretching his arms above his head. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not the only one. I also found it a little tricky to continue my napping. Bad dreams and what-have-you.” 

Mervil’s brow furrowed, a frown spreading across his face. “Yazstromo, while I don’t mean to sound at all condescending,”, he began, using the most condescending tone he could muster that early in the morning, “the idea of being on watch is that you don’t sleep; you watch. For potential threats. That could kill us in our sleep. Which you apparently decided to indulge in. At the cost of leaving us open to attack. I could go on like this, but I thought, knowing you, you’d want a chance to explain your intolerably eccentric actions that could have gotten us all killed.”

At this, the old man simply smiled. “I felt like a nap, and if you noticed, we’re not dead. Call it a hunch that tonight wouldn’t be the night that Arivis happens to find us and ruin this hodge-podge of tasks you call a plan. Now, if you’re done grumbling, go back to sleep, for all our sakes. If you get any crankier, the universe will probably collapse in on itself from the sheer weight of it.”  
  
*****  
  
“The only thing I appreciate about this place is that it’s the worst excuse for a desert I’ve ever seen. A regular desert would’ve done a much better job at slowing us down.” Tap stopped, wiped the sweat from her brow, and looked up at their cloaked travel guide. “So, are you sure you know where you’re going? We’ve been walking for days, and still haven’t gotten there.”

Kaz started, alarm spreading across his face. “Now, Tap, I’m sure Mr. Death- I MEAN, Mervil knows where he’s going. Right?”

Any and all hope left Kaz upon seeing the frown clouding the Wanderer’s face. “P’raps the centuries have shot your memories t’pieces? It seems even the great Mervil can fall victim t’the burden of old age.” Naomi glanced cheekily at Mervil, her gaze thick with triumphant pity. “Hold your tongue, Naomi. I wouldn’t be so quick to bring up my age when I’m not the only one who needs to be concerned with the ravages of time.”  
  
As Naomi turned away, shocked, Mervil continued. “No, I know exactly where I’m going; trust me on that. It’s just that...”

“We should’ve seen something by now. Or at the very least, you should’ve seen something by now. Am I right?” Mervil nodded. “You seem to be understanding how I do things, Yazstromo. I used my book’s magic to hide the tower, of course; though, if anyone would be able to see it, it would be me. But in a desert this flat, I should’ve sighted the tower on the horizon by at least yesterday morning. And by my estimates, the tower should be right around here. And yet, I can’t see anything...”

As they were talking, Tap, who had by this time sat down squarely on the ground, was looking intently at the sand beneath her. She then rapped the ground with her knuckles, before quickly sweeping the sand away from the spot she had tapped. Her eyes widened, and she looked quickly up at the two conversing men. “Guys, you may want to have a look at this.” Her companions gathered around her, immediately noticing a rough, grey, solid surface.

The old man rubbed his fingers over it. “It appears to be some sort of mortar or concrete. I wonder...how far across does it go?” Holding his staff firmly, Yazstromo struck the ground, a shockwave rippling outwards, pushing the sands back. When the dust settled, the group could now see that they were standing upon a very wide area of hardened mortar. As they gazed around themselves in amazement,

Yazstromo scratched his beard, a grin spreading across his face. “Well now, the sight of all this concrete is starting to lay down the...foundations of an idea in my mind.” He chuckled, then turned to Mervil. “If you don’t mind, I could use a little more force. I have a feeling we’re going to need to break through this stuff if we’re going to make any headway.” While he looked a little affronted by the old man giving instructions, Mervil summoned his scythe, and stood a short distance across from Yazstromo. “Now, on the count of three...one, two, three!” They both struck the ground, fractures spreading across the surface, and after a suspenseful pause, the area between them gave way, falling through to the space below. They all gathered around the hole, and after looking through it, they each shared the same look of confusion, save for Mervil, who seemed to have had a realisation, and Yazstromo, who just couldn’t stop grinning. Beyond the hole they had made, it seemed that the whole world had tipped upside down.  
  
Kaz was the first to speak. “I don’t understand...what exactly is going on? What is this place? Why is it upside down?”

“Well, my friend, it seems Mervil here underestimated the power of his book,” Yazstromo answered, that grin still sitting on his face. “It would seem that when Mervil cast his spell to hide the tower...”

“...it turned the whole mountain range upside down, from the top of the tower down to its foundations.” Mervil shook his head in disbelief. “I never knew...I always thought that Arivis levelled the mountains in his search for the Staff...to think that this was done by my hand.” Naomi looked at Yazstromo, questioningly. “So, this sand...”

“...is soil, weathered down into a finer form by the winds. That’s what first tipped me off to the possibility of all this.” Tap got to her feet, also with questions. “And this desert?”

“I’d think of this place less as a desert and more like a solar-heated subterranean cave. That’s why it’s not very hot here: because we’re technically underground.” By this stage, it was clear that Yazstromo was enjoying the situation thoroughly. “It’s stuff like this that really makes me glad I decided to go out and let adventure find me. It’s not every day you get to walk upside down beneath the surface of the earth for a few days.” He then pulled a spoon out of the pouch hanging from his neck, and watched as it thinned and stretched until it was a coil of rope. He then turned, jumped into the hole, grabbed hold of the edge, and swung out of sight, beneath the mortar they were standing on. The rest of them cried out, and then looked on in puzzlement as the end of the rope started travelling up out of the hole. “Just grab hold of the rope and shimmy your way down. I promise it’ll hold. Just watch out as you clear the hole; it’ll feel quite strange when you do.” After sharing a communal look of concern, one by one, they grabbed the rope and slid down it. On crossing the threshold, each of them experienced a complete inversion of gravity, as they now appeared to be climbing _up_ a rope, feet first. Before they let go of the rope from the confusion, Yazstromo, who appeared to be standing on what was once the roof but now seemed to be the floor, grabbed them by the shoulder and pulled them off the rope, carefully throwing them to the floor. After they were all in a neat pile on the ground, Yazstromo reeled the rope back into a coil. “Well, that wasn’t so hard. Now we’ve just got to take these stairs out of this basement, and we’ll be on our way.”  
  
*****  
  
On reaching the main floor of the tower, rather than continue upwards, Mervil indicated that they should instead take a moment to look outside. Awaiting them was one of the most breathtaking and surreal sights they had ever witnessed. The tower was situated in the centre of a beautiful orchard; fruit trees scattered across the clearing in the surrounding mountains, a stream carving its way through the verdant, green grass beneath their feet. And yet, there was something odd about the scene; it was bathed in an eerie half-light, as if the sun was almost there, but wasn’t; it was too quiet, and, most unsettling, it was too still. Standing a short distance in front of them were two figures, who appeared as like statues, one of them holding a staff aloft. Mervil took one look at the two people, before grim realisation, but also a strange sense of relief, hit him.

“It’s Joseph, the King’s youngest son, and quite the promising sorcerer, and what I assume is an accompanying guard. The King must have sent Joseph to hide the piece in the tower. My guess is that he completed the task, but realised that simply hiding the thing in a tower wouldn’t suffice for the likes of Arivis. So he did the only thing he could: he froze the entire area, himself included, in time.” The Wanderer shook his head, before turning away from the remains of a lost people. The rest of the group followed, save for Yazstromo, who went to get a closer look at the stream, and Naomi, who couldn’t look away from her temporal kin. Mervil continued, more to himself than to the two following him. “While I wouldn’t wish such a sacrifice on someone so good-hearted, frankly I’m glad that it was done. Even with the entire mountain range flipped upside down, Arivis would likely have been able to sense the energy within the Staff segment. But by freezing the tower in time, it’s effectively removed the entire place from the present. And if it no longer exists in the present, then Arivis won’t be able to detect it.” Mervil looked upwards at the ground above him. “That’s why there’s still light down here; it’s been frozen in time along with the rest. But it’s strange...it all seems a little dimmer than I would’ve thought...”

Before he could continue musing, Yazstromo called out. “I hate to be a bother, but I think that the water in this stream is moving, albeit _very_ slowly.”

Then Naomi gave a shout, and also called out. “These people...I think they’re moving. Slowly, but I swear that they’re moving. And...” She stifled a whimper. “...and aging.”

The cloaked figure froze, his blood running cold from the fear of these revelations. “Well...if they’re moving, then that means that the time-freeze is failing. And if the time-freeze is failing...then that means...” At that moment, a being materialised in front of them; a staff of purest gold in one hand, a piece of glinting silver in the other.

“Well, well, well...would you look at what I just found.”


	23. Section 5.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original note: Sorry that this is unedited, but I don't have enough time, so...ZE, you have a PM. :P But, yeah, this is so you can STOP THE HARASSMENT...until next time! Cya!

“Arivis…” Anger seeped into the Rito’s voice as she spoke what the others were speaking, their hands clasping their weapons as they readied to attack.

“Ah…” His gaze fell on her, “I had never thought to see you under the powers of time upon you, Dimensional Traveler. It is a pity to see such a specimen go to waste…just as her child had.”

“You should go back to the pits of hell where you belong,” She remarked.

“But…” He smiled, “It was not I who had caused such distress, my old specimen, and it was he—the one who is to save the world, pity that it is to be saved by Death himself. One must wonder what this world has came to when Death shall be it’s hero. But…enough of this small talk,” Arivis turned to Tap who her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. His eyes went to her belt where a part of the Staff of Moon rested. Then, in a flash of light he disappeared.

“Tap!” Kaz shouted, his eyes growing wide. “He’s behind you!”

The innocent turned, and stared into the face of Arivis, who had her in a death grip a moment later, with the sharp tip of the Staff of Sun at her throat. She gave a scream and Mervil swore. Everything was coming undone.

“Now, girl,” Arivis smirked, “I suggest you hand over that trinket on your belt…you see, if you do, I shall spare your—all of your lives. A good deal for such a small price, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I…won’t.”

“Oh…?” He responded. “But, I already took the deceased prince’s…what chance do you have against my might, girl?”

She said nothing, but her companion’s, their eyes flow to the part of the Staff of Moon at Arivis’ side, but then, Mervil spoke, “She is the Innocent, fool. If you take her life, all your plans will come undone.”

“Is she?” He released her from his grip and brought back the golden staff to hit her on the head, but missed as Tap dunked and took the part of the Staff of Moon from his side, with an almost wicked expression upon her face. At the same moment Arivis felt something small, but sharp go into his left side, he gasped, “A steak knife?”

“Are always handy in difficult situation,” Yazstromo remarked.

“Damn…,” Arivis held his side, “It’s you…general! Take care of these fools! Make sure you take the Innocent alive.”

A moment later, he was gone, and a tall, powerful Numan took his place with an army of twenty at his back and Mervil turned the tower right side up again…

***

“I hate this place!” Railin shouted as he looked up towards the darkening sky. “By the Goddesses, why did they ’ave ta create it!?”

His companion looked back at Railin, Stalfos’ red eyes sparkling in his skull and Railin felt quite glad that Galyssess was on his side. He would have hated having to fight the Stalfos, but luckily, this one was good and not one of the evil ones that lurked in the Lost Woods playing evil pranks on poor little bandits like him. They had already meant a few already and none of those encounters had been…desirable, but he and Galyssess had defeated them, although most of the credit could easily go to the Stalfos. He was a true warrior, and Railin—well, he was bandit—it was nothing more or less than that.

Galyssess had called him brave, despite that, Railin felt far from it. He just knew that he had to keep fighting because that meant that he might have a chance to see Kaz again and get out of these Woods alive. How was that brave?

“I don’t know…”

“I bet it was to annoy us—how come that Wanderer-guy had to send us here? And, how the hell are you suppose to do whatever, if you’re here in a ‘Wood and wonderin’ around without knowin’ where you’re going.” Railin sighed and sat on a stump. “We’re just goin’ to be lost forever…aren’t we?”

The Stalfos did not say anything, instead, his hand rested on his sword and looked around them.

“Aren’t ya going to say anything, Galyssess?” Railin asked. “Aren’t ya mad at that weirdo too?”

“I have other things to be mad about.” Galyssess replied softly and turned back to Railin. “Really, how is getting mad about this damn place helping us? We should try to find someone who can guide us out of here and then find our bearings. Then, we can search for Mervil and the others—“

“Mervil…” A voice said from behind them. Railin jumped. How had this new person snuck up on them without them hearing him?

They both turned around, finding themselves looking into the face of a man dressed in a dark cloak, with his hood over his face. In his hand, he carried an odd staff and on his back was a large sword. Whoever this was, was most definitely a warrior—and he did not sound friendly.

“Interesting that you mention that name,” the man continued, somehow, Railin could have sworn the man was smiling.

“Do ya know that weirdo?” Railin asked.

“You could say…that I know of him.” He waved his hand in a disarming action. “I do not wish to fight, Warrior.”

Galyssess did not remove his bony hand from his sword. “Why should I trust you? You shouldn’t expect it after sneaking up on two people in these bloody woods…”

“And you two are people?” The cloak man laughed. “What I see is a bandit and Stalfos wondering around the Lost Woods. To most, that is a strange company and I doubt that you had little more than a few Stalfos attack you and…your companion.”

“Like tellin’ us what a weird bunch we make is gonna make us trust some ‘un like you.” Railin folded his arms. “It just makes Galyssess want to attack you more!”

The Stalfos sighed, but the sigh was more like the wind’s breathe than an actually human sigh. “I’ll give you this chance.” —Railin glared holes in the back of his Stalfos companion—“Prove that I we can trust you or…you’ll die where you stand.”

“How do you know you would not be the one to die if we fought, Warrior? Do you think I to old to hold my own against your kind?”

“SHUT UP!” Galyssess commanded. “I’m tired of your tongue. Just say your piece, idiot.”

“I see…” The man paused. “You truly are the Warrior of legend—Galyssess, I presume?”

“Yes,” the one in question nodded, “But, who the hell are you?”

“Allanon,” the other replied. “So, how would you like me to lead you where the Wanderer has wandered to?”

Railin looked up, but Galyssess was the first to react, sword at Allanon’s throat. “How the hell do you know where he is? What did you—“

“You really are quick to assume, aren’t you?” Allanon sighed. “Put your sword down, Warrior, and then I will tell you.”

Galyssess did as asked, much to Railin’s displeasure. How could he trust this strangely cloaked man so readily? The Stalfos looked back at him and meant Railin’s eyes—and the bandit knew that it was because they had to. There was no one else who could help them, even if they would have preferred anyone other than this cloaked stranger.

“Go on.”

“That I will,” the cloak man said.

“You could say, that it is thanks to this staff…” Their eyes went to the staff and the strange chunk of rock upon it. “This is the third part of the core of the Staff of Moon—and the other two call from the tower once locked in the grip of time. A place that only Mervil knows the true location of…”

“You know where that weirdo is!”

“Could you lead us there?”

Allanon nodded. “That was what I came here to do…” He began to walk away from the Stalfos and the bandit at a speed that neither had expected. “Come! We must hurry.”

They followed, and Railin turned to the Stalfos warrior. “Ya know, I can’t say I like this guy. He makes Mervil look normal.”

Galyssess nodded. “But, all we have to do is trust him.”

“I can’t say I wanna do that either.”

***

The last of Mervil’s spell took out the last of the former general’s Numan and Tap released a breath that she had not known she was holding. She slumped against the outside wall of the Bronze Tower, and wearily looked up at Mervil who had now turned to the dark haired girl with her torn, red hat in her hands. Luckily, that was the only casualty of the battle.

Naomi was making her way over to Yazstromo who had fallen unconscious in the mess of battle, but for the moment, the Innocent did not care. She did not care because she was too tired, too worn out to care that the elderly man was out cold or Kaz who had gotten a gash in the arm. Her poor hat was far more interesting than them.

“Girl, you have to combine the staff,” Mervil commanded. It was all commands with him…no wonder even Arivis called him Death—he was so uncaring.

“Why should I?” She asked as she looked at the parts of the Staff of Moon. “The only reason you want to save the world…is to kill more innocent people—isn’t it? You’re just as bad as Arivis…”

“Arivis destroyed my country…and the same will happen to the rest of this world if you don’t do as I tell you, Innocent.” She stared blankly at him and he sighed. He had feelings? She had thought his heart was of stone. “At least, do it for the world you wish to save.”

“I…” Instead, she nodded, and picked up the parts of the Staff of Moon she had laid by her side. She placed them together, but to her surprise…nothing happened, “C’mon…, work! Work!” She sighed. “Mervil…why isn’t it working? Am I really the Innocent?”

The man stared at the still broken staff in disbelieve for a moment, but then sighed, “It seems that he split it in three parts, to make sure that the event that happened today would not end in tragedy.”

She sighed, “Then…where’d he put the last part?”

“I…”

“Are you looking for this, Wanderer?” A new voice said, and for a moment, Tap thought it was Arivis, but then she saw Galyssess and Railin tailing behind him. A smile broke out on her face, and Kaz, despite being injured, ran to his lost friend and tackled him. Naomi shook her head, but laughed.

Mervil turned and folded his arms. “Might I inquire why it is you have that?”

“You could say…that it was cared for by my people to keep it safe until the time of reckoning was at hand,” the man bowed, and continued with a note of sarcasm in his voice. “I am Allanon of the Garo, and I present to you, Innocent, the last part of the Staff of Moon.”

Tap stood, walked over to the cloaked man, and took the last part of the broken staff. Tap brought the three parts together, watching as the parts of the silver staff floated in the air and came together to form the whole in a flash of bright silvery light. A moment later, the whole Staff of Moon landed gently in her hands.

***

That night, they had decided to camp beside the tower, for as Naomi had explained, it was rather unlikely that Arivis would try anything that night. He would still be nursing his wound and counting his loses—if one thing could be said for their opponent, it was that he was not a fool.

For that reason also, Mervil was on watch as the others rested, ate, or talked amongst themselves. Speaking of the events of the day, how many they killed, how ‘cool’ someone’s actions were, or other chosen topic. He had even overheard Naomi bringing up the topic of ‘frozen time’ and explaining how Joseph’s time freezing spell had moved to them. It was a rather complex topic, and Tap had remarked after trying to understand, “So basically, we’re like you and Mr. Death now—we’re going to be around f-o-r-e-v-e-r, right?”

  
While this was going on, Mervil’s only companion was the darkness and for the moment, he was completely fine with that. It was not as though the other desired to spend time with the one they had donned Death, and if he had to admit it, he rather preferred that title as well, for it was...suiting.

“It seems that Allanon character thinks he’s the prophet, matey,” Mervil raised an eyebrow as the Rito sat near him. She drew her long, legs up to her chin and looked out into the distance, thoughtfully watching the starry sky of the once great land of Crandall. A land that was now only a memory to the two and a legend to the rest of the world.

“I thought that you preferred to call me ‘Death.’” He stated, coolly. “It is appropriate.”

Naomi closed her eyes and sighed, “And I shouldn’t have called ye that. All I wanted was to blame you for her death so that I might’ve someone to blame it on. Not…because I felt what you had done to all those men and women on your islands was wrong. Though, it is still wrong.”

He gave a short, humorous laugh. “I would thank you for your kindness, but it was still my actions that had killed her. If I had not decided it was best to lead a rescue party to save her from Arivis’ grip, then she might still be alive, instead of buried in the ground near her father’s home.”

“You may have lead the party, but she still died because of me…her blood was never on your hands,” She paused. “That…is the reason I hadn’t returned home, and won’t ‘til Arivis is dead…and sent to the pits of hell as is his rightful castigation.”

He nodded, and then they heard someone trip, stumble, and fall. Naomi stared for a moment at the girl at her feet…the Innocent looked up and smiled. “How long were you eavesdropping, Tap?”

“I…” She began, but then Kaz came and stood beside her. “I’m sorry Miss Naomi, but we…we wanted to check on old Yaz…and…and”

“And…we overheard you and Death talking…” Tap said, “We didn’t mean to interrupt, but I accidentally tripped and…well, that’s what happened.”

Naomi rolled her eyes.

“I’m quite alright you know,” Yazstromo remarked, “But, if you wouldn’t mind me asking, what year is this anyways?”


	24. Section 5.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Deku Lord
> 
> ~Forever Forgotten: The Knife~

“Quickly, come inside.” The Guild leader, garbed in gold, seemed hurried to return to the stronghold, and the other two had already hoisted their comrade onto their shoulders, his blood leaving few visible marks on their red robes. Picking up his weapon, he swiftly followed the men through the muck and out of the deluge.

As the doors slammed behind him, he stared at the corridor in awe; marvellous, multicoloured tapestries were hung all around him in a mixture of reds, golds, and purples. The perfect adornment, he thought, for the marble walls on which they were hung, with images of fearsome, long-extinct beasts hewn into the pillars. However, as the Guild members beckoned him toward the infirmary staircase, he knew that there was no other choice; he could not be discovered in the castle with the blade of the Garo.

The Deku hastily rushed toward the leader, drawing his blade as he ran. He wasn't quite sure if he had other options; he was too focused on the events already set in motion. Slashing at the leader's neck, he turned on the other two. They stood in horror with Aczaros in their arms, trying to comprehend their leader's fate; his body lay there in a crumpled heap on the ground; a large gash in his neck poured blood onto the tile floor. They soon met the same fate, after which the Deku hid the bodies down what appeared to be a little used corridor near the staircase to the infirmary. He hurried on, darting from room to room along the sides of the main corridor, checking each for useful equipment, until he came across a rather curious chamber.

It looked a bit like a fusion of a library and an apothecary, with books strewn on the single oaken desk in the room, which rested next to a large, disorganized bookcase; it appeared to be made of yew. Along the walls hung many fancy knives, some appearing to be meant for more use than simply stabbing one's victim. Picking one off the wall, he stood there, admiring its beauty for a moment.

The sheath bore a strong resemblance to the artwork from his home realm, but the hilt was quite obviously hewn by the Ikanan hand. Picking a small note off the wall, he read about the special parts of the dagger, and, looking around, found a small bottle labelled 'Toxic'. After he unscrewed the Jeweled hilt from the crosshilt, he poured the poison into the small compartment, and noticed a green streak that now adorned the blade and seemed to crest at the point; he figured he knew its purpose, and so he sheathed the weapon and hid it in his robe.

As he exited, he noticed a commotion far down the hall to his left, and heard something about “four bodies lying dead!” At that, he began to sprint the other way, and was fairly confident they hadn't seen him round the corner. As he turned into the next hallway, he noticed a hooded figure standing outside of a grand doorway, and slowed his pace; this was clearly not a palace guard, as it was peering through a small crack in the door, and was so intent that it did not hear the Deku sneak up behind it. With a strong downward slash, he ended the Garo, picked up its still-hooded head, and opened the door.


	25. Section 6.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> ~Section Six~
> 
> Forever Forgotten: Mayhem

The night was filled with novelty, or was it more correct to call it nostalgia? No, there was nothing nostalgic about these horrors, these nightmares. It had been at least a century since he had last fell victim to their haunting mockery of emotion. She died over and over in front of his eyes. Mervil didn’t sleep for the remainder of the night, if he had broken a cold sweat over his dreams he would have chastised himself endlessly until daybreak. Now wasn’t the time to _feel_, at least feel anything outside of anger, a hunger for revenge.  
  
But like always, Death kept a level head. They were all sleeping, he finally was sure of that, checking each of them by the dimming firelight, and he hadn’t the patience to be joined on his nightly stroll. The stars far away winked at him, made him yearn for a peace to fall upon his heart, but the power of wonder and mystery they possessed did not curb his mind from wandering from the situation. Arivis was at large, just waiting to swoop upon their mismatched group and crush their dwindled hopes.  
  
Behind the Bronze Tower the Moon shone intently across the plain, casting a sad shadow across the collection of bodies, Mervil planted at its tip. To his left and to his right it seemed like eternity had nestled in the very sand of the desert, it was overly frustrating, the weight he felt pushing on his shoulders. And now things were far more complicated than he had first imagined. With the obscure character of Allanon being a pest, fulfilling the legend seemed even further from reasonable. Mervil pulled up his hood and continued walking out into the middle of nowhere.  
His book seemed to tug him back but he ignored it. If he had the choice they would have been sea bound that very evening after the surprise arrival of Arivis and their lucky break at fending him off. The piles of dead Numen sand, for lack of a better term, shuttered in the cruel breeze, even then it felt like their empty faces were watching him from Hades itself.  
  
“Where is hell really? Or have we all been damned and not realized it yet?” Faint words filtered between his cracked lips, being swallowed by the howling winds. Mervil felt the necessity to sit and process under the stars, to think clearly once more ever since the night of the Autumn Festival. With the Scholar and crew following him around, he barely had any time to himself besides the nights where he decided not to rest. Rest was for the weak, the ill prepared. What they needed was ironclad spirits, but not even Death assumed such for anyone. Who would have hope here anyway, in the ruins of a kingdom long dead?  
  
“This is foolish, a game he wants to play with us…with me.”  
  
“You know, talking to yourself in the middle of the night doesn’t seem the sanest thing to do.”  
  
“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Scholar? You took quite the nasty bump back there. We wouldn’t want you wandering about in such a condition.” Mervil’s tone was cold; disapproving of yet again having his company increased over the ideal number of none. He knew that the Scholar could feel the pure vehement air he was trying to exude, but it simply wasn’t enough to turn the coot away.  
  
“I’ll be fine with you by my side.” Yazstromo flickered a clever grin and yawned, rubbing the hidden welt beneath his wispy hair. “Funny thing isn’t it? A Tower locked in time; we come and break up the party, find our most devious foe, and boom!” He threw his arms apart weakly and with a hint of bored surprise. “We’re suddenly living much longer than the normal man, and woman. Too bad it’ll all be over when we’re all dead.”  
  
“Oh?” Mervil was at least taken a slight bit back by the old man’s lack of optimism, something he used to coin every action he performed upon. Maybe the jolt was simply too much for the ailing Scholar. It was kind of refreshing, finally having someone share a same mindset as his, even if the person agreeing with him was probably suffering from a bad concussion.  
  
“Yes, yes, Yazstromo the ever cheerful finally drops the façade!” The Scholar still smiled and passively shuffled his worn boots in the soil. “Too bad for us, I was the only thing keeping this show under the sunshine, rainbows and fireflies galore now gone from our hearts.”  
  
“I think you need to sit down.” The Wanderer approached the only group member he shared some kind of responsibility for, all that he could ever spare for anyone.  
  
“No, I’m fine Mervil.” The name sounded foreign on the eccentric tongue that spoke it, he couldn’t remember the last time he heard Yazstromo call him by his given name. Something wasn’t right or maybe he was imagining his slight alarm. “You see, I know just as well as the rest of us that we’re going to be done like dinner the moment we make landfall.”  
  
“But you forget, the Warrior is back with us, we have the completed Staff of Moons. We have everything we could –  
  
“Stop, you know just as well as I how likely this legend will come to fruition. Galysses is an oaf, that cloaked fellow that seemed to guide them to us is also a bit of a problem…” Yazstromo furrowed his brow as he continued to speak, like his thoughts were being fed from an outside force, recalling words he never formed in his mind. “A bit of a Fallacy…”  
  
“How…true.” The Deliverer looked out from the edge of his hood, watching the Scholar slowly go over what he just spoke. “I can’t say that even at the beginning if we had managed to draw the Master Sword from the courtyard if Arivis would have fallen. And now, with his grip so strong over Hyrule and back to these ghostly grounds… Our goal may be long forgotten.”  
  
Silence covered the expanse between them, Yazstromo’s concentrated look drifting off to a lazy grin once again. The sky started to bruise, to flower into a spectrum of reds and pinks at the edge of the horizon. Dawn was coming; daylight would make them move again, closer to the brink of death. The starlight glittered with a mourning sense, slowly disappearing as the fingers of the superior sun tore at the sky.  
  
“Either way,” Mervil decided to speak on both of their behalves. “We have no other choice; we have to continue, to defy the Demon. We are Hyrule’s only hope.”  
  
“Oh bloody well. I hate it when you take on this moral sense of yours, it’s so different from your usual ‘doom’ attitude that we can’t do anything but agree with you.” Turning on his heel he began to walk back to the camp with the usual spring in his step. “I wish I could keep faith in Galysses’ integrity, the power of this legend we both are following seems to wane whenever we realize Arivis’s power. I have this sinking feeling… like we’re missing something.”  
  
“Or maybe you too are starting to notice just how damned we are.”  
  
“Maybe so.”  
  
***  
  
“You simply don’t understand, Kagariso, if you don’t place more guards at the Eastern Gate you might as well have me kill you myself!” The husk of a voice carried out along the throne room, reaching the Deku Lord’s ears with a harsh echo. It was much darker inside, curtains pulled on each window and only two torches lit at the very far end where two men spoke darkly. It was obvious who had delivered the threat, Igos du Ikana, widely known as the last king of the great kingdom. Suddenly things became slightly more real; the Deku knew that a war with the Garo marked the last legs of Ikana, but still…  
  
“Your Majesty, I bring you this, the head of an intruder.” With a lazy toss to show that the feat was simple in essence, despite the kill being by surprise, the lord presented the head of the Garo spy. He knew he was treading quite thinly, not even being addressed, but he was much faster than a warrior king clad in plate armour. Or he had hoped so.  
Openly confused, the King seemingly hovered on quiet feet down to the bottom of the steps, yanking up the hooded piece and dangling it at arms length. Kagariso, covered in the blood of his comrades, let his mouth drop. It was obvious none of these warriors had ever seen a Garo so exposed, more so even a _corpse_of one.  
  
“See, this very Hood likely snuck in through your guard and was very nearly ready to spring more of his kind upon these honoured halls! You disgrace your Guild, Kagariso, to think such filth could be running through my castle at this very moment, it is more than appalling!” Igos’s fury was being converted ever so quickly by the strange little figure standing before him, delivering him a head, no less one of his mortal enemy’s. Trying to maintain a powerful tone, he turned from the shamed soldier back to the kneeling Deku Lord.  
  
“I apologize for crashing into your private discussion, King Igos, please forgive me.” He continued to muse over the right words to say, to cover up how strange it was that someone of his kind was even in the Castle. “But you see that very Hood was preparing to burst in itself, to try and end your glorious life ever so abruptly. I had to destroy it and show you of the immediate danger you could be in, the entire force could be in.”  
  
“Silence yourself, Deku. I could care less where you found this fiend, I’m more than curious as to why you are even here, as far as I know there was absolutely no outside forces even considering helping us.” Igos gritted his teeth together loudly in the fury of betrayal. “I may be near merciless but I am still born of Terminian roots, I _am_ Termina’s roots. And yet…they’d rather let my kingdom die…”  
  
The Deku Lord could feel how convoluted the King’s mind currently was, flying off in all kinds of directions, but all still meeting at a blinding hatred for his surroundings. Before he could get a chance to return to the original question, the Deku gazed with his shining blue eyes, piercing into the tattered soul of the King. Would this even work on this kind of human?  
  
“However it may have been, I still have to grant you thanks for showing me how open and wounded we certainly must be. Kagariso, you should leave and follow the orders I have very clearly stated for you. Time is of the essence.” But there seemed to be a pained expression cross the tired face of Igos, like he knew the fate Ikana would fall to, just as the Deku Lord was well aware of.  
  
“I mean no harm to –  
  
“King Igos!” A lone soldier burst into the throne room, throwing the doors apart and slamming into the knelt Deku, ending into a crumpled heap of armour and robe. The hit nearly took the breath from him, but after the briefest apology in history, forgiveness was granted. The Deku Lord knew exactly what this Ikanian was bringing and he didn’t particularly fancy the idea. “We have found four bodies in one of the secondary weapons cache, all soldiers from the rear Gate. Aczaros was killed first and now the remainder of his battalion has perished by the hands of the Garo!” He stumbled forward, nearly losing his footing and tackling his superior. Managing to remain upright he grabbed the King’s arm and started to pull him forward. “We must get you to safety; we cannot let you fall into their hands.”  
  
“Enough!” Igos threw the knight aside and trudged back up the staircase to his seat, where he promptly sat. “If the bastards want my kingdom, if they truly think they can crush the spirit of Ikana, then let them come, let them cascade down every well and fell every soldier. I will not remove myself; I will not run like a coward!” A single vein protruded from the side of his head, running nearly down to his neck before disappearing behind the golden helmet he wore. He laughed a hearty and cautious guffaw, pulling a long gilded sword from the side of his throne. “I’ll watch them wander around without arms or legs, listen to their cries as I cut through them. The Garo may be disciplined but everyone fears death at some level, everyone fears the savages that we were bred of.”  
  
“But you don’t understand, if they take you, if they kill you, who will lead us?” The knight was completely in shambles, his voice cracking as if preparing to weep at the blind courage his King was barking about.  
  
“If Igos du Ikana falls, then so does the Kingdom. For as long as I grace this land everyone will remember us, they will still cry and echo our names!”  
  
“Don’t count on it.” The Deku Lord muttered, breaking the speech he knew was to come. A bewildered look came across the knight as he heard the traitorous line, Igos took absolutely no heed. It was as if he could care less who he was, why he was there; his eyes were working and it was brilliant.  
  
“Tell any and all the soldiers you come across my dear fellow, that if they open my doors trying to take me away and not to join me, I will be adding them to our catapults personally.” Igos spat, his defiance unwavering, but the flitting of his eyes revealed that even beyond his complete devotion to staying, he still felt some fear for his life. The Deku Lord chuckled to himself, seeing the opportunity to lift even more valuable objects hidden among the chambers. Maybe he would make the kingly beast leave, or maybe there was an even better option…  
  
“You, knave who killed the Garo,” Igos waved his sword in several directions, one to make the shivering warrior leave and the other towards the ragged head, “Do you even desire to remain here, knowing failure is about us? I see some sort of yearning in your eyes, like you have suffered a loss. Or maybe you honestly believe you’re making me act on your own behalf with those blue things of yours.”  
  
A pit immediately formed in his already voided stomach. What the hell was going on here? The Deku Lord’s face broke into surprise and suddenly returned to a solemn gaze, trying not to show his complete confusion. “Whatever could you me –?  
  
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you wooden little bastard.” He laughed loudly, booming along with the thunder outside the throne room walls. The shadows of the curtains flashed on the spectacular tiled floor by the whim of the lightning beyond the windows high above. “I felt it amusing for the both of us that I play your little game, but only for a moment. You aren’t the first to attempt such foolish magic tricks, my little Deku. I assume that you’re on my side life-wise if you killed that Garo for me, despite your hearty desire for looting me of all I own.” Igos slashed his sword about menacingly, showing a well earned distrust of his new guest.  
  
“Well, my apologies then, I didn’t expect you to be able to read my mind.” The Deku Lord could feel a falling sense take over him, how could he not tell that his magic wasn’t working? The King certainly was a superb actor.  
  
“Don’t worry, I can’t read your mind, I simply can just absorb whatever “voodoo”,” Igos waved his free hand around for effect at this, “you try on me and see the motivation behind it. To answer your wishes, there does happen to be treasure hidden in this room, but you won’t be taking it anytime soon. I am dreadfully sorry.” He chuckled at his clever ability, reading the frown creasing into the Deku’s wooden features.  
  
What a worthless endeavour this seemed to be. And even now he still didn’t understand exactly why he was here, in the last legs of Ikana. But with Igos very nearly breathing down his neck, he had to be even more cautious about his situation. Gods be damned, if he died here he would be extremely sore about the whole thing.  
  
“So tell me why you are in my Castle, Deku, how you managed to sneak in during the middle of war. I advise you tell me the truth.” Igos juggled the blade three times in a playful manner, all the time watching the sodden guest with a fierce glare. “But still, I do commend you on the kill, but I would have managed on my own if the Garo were so foolish to bring itself into combat with a warrior such as…”  
  
He trailed off, concentrating his gaze even more intensely on the Deku Lord’s presence. Standing slowly he lifted his free hand and the remainder of the torches lit along both sides of the throne room. Ancient paintings, vases, runes and bricks suddenly sprang into view, tapestries draped even farther down the walls then first expected.  
  
“Move! Now!” Igos screeched the commands toward the floor, the Deku Lord glanced across the decorated expanse and could see all of the shadows darting around, cumulating around him and the King. With a twisting jerk he flung himself to the left, crashing against a pedestal, nearly missing the upward slice of a Garo’s Blade. He drew the Jewelled Dagger rather than his Garo Blade, knowing exactly what kind of accusation would be thrown if Igos saw it in his possession. At least a dozen of the hooded foes drew up from the tiles, carrying several weapons, boomerangs, swords, daggers and morning stars.  
  
“Igos Du Ikana, we have broken your defences on the East and Western Gates. Rather than kill you, our leader has requested we incapacitate you and bring you before him to watch your kingdom rot.” The Garo nearest the time traveller spoke in a hoarse whisper, the tone sinister and uncaring. “If you do not comply we will spread your body among the halls, spray your blood across all your priceless portraits. If you wish to live, then pass over your blade. If you do not comply we will have no other choice.”  
  
“Then damn you all.” The King flung forward, straight threw the closest adversary, cutting him clean in half with his glittering blade. Rolling to his immediate left he avoided the crash of a laden Morning Star, slicing thin air as its holder reverted into the shadows once more. With an unexpected agility underneath the pounds of plate armour he wore, the Deku Lord watched Igos leap into the air, over the next five Hoods, landing in a sweeping glance, tearing into cloth and through weaker weapons. Trying to mimic the attitude Igos bore, the Deku scattered forward, hacking into the messenger with the poisonous blade he had lifted earlier, hearing flesh burn and bubble.  
  
It wasn’t as heroic a kill; for rather than die within seconds, the Garo killed itself, retaining its honour through the ‘old ways’ of their kind. But it seemed that at the death of this pseudo leader more shadows poured in from the cracks of the doorway. It appeared like Igos was getting his valiant wish…  
  
“You whelps will not take me!” He swung his sword overhead and slammed it in the ground, spreading a ring of light that ripped the Garo from their disguises within the floor, incinerating some and angering the rest. They began rushing up the walls and onto chandeliers, window casings and draperies, forming a near black blanket all among the King’s prized possessions; it was frighteningly beautiful. They all stared down at him, ignoring his bewildered guest whose mind was filled entirely of different ways he would be cut up and made into a fire.  
  
They spoke in monotonic unison, “but we already have.” The King began to laugh at the dozens of Garo, holding his arms aloft and calling out to them in thundering glee.  
  
“Then go ahead, take me to your esteemed head, show me who granted life into the obscene Tower and the order to eradicate my people. I want to see you try it, I want to see you defy Igos!” He removed his helmet, showing his eyes were no longer filled with fear but with a determination so strong, the Deku Lord could almost feel his bravery. But it didn’t last. The Garo returned to shadows and swarmed around in a storm of darkness against every surface. Igos’s gaping smile turned into gasping horror, the blackness of the Garo horde fell to the floor at once, rushing across the throne room in less than a second.  
  
Deku Lord watched the buzzing shadows slam into the warrior, shattering through his throne and into the wall behind. There was no final cry from Igos Du Ikana, the last king, when they abdicated him; there was no chance for continued defiance. And there was no time for the Deku to conserve any thought on what he had just witnessed. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the room, filled with smoke now that the torches were blown out by the removal of Igos; glowing Garo eyes could be seen among the wreckage of the throne. They had taken the King, and he was next, he could feel that thought as if the Hoods had spoken it aloud.  
  
“As much as I really would like to stay…” He bowed slowly, reaching halfway down before abruptly spinning on his heel and battering through the throne room doors. The brightness of the halls took a while to adjust to, but he continued to run, glancing over his shoulder, watching as the shadows of the Garo horde plastered itself all along the way. He had no idea where to go, how to get away from them. And as much as he knew nothing of the castle, neither did his enemy.  
Leaping across the hallway and into a darkened stairway, the Deku Lord rolled down the flight and painfully collided with the landing. Not caring to check himself over, he continued on his same plan, jumping down another flight to find a dusty and cramped winery that led underneath the throne room. The Deku Lord was nearly flying as he took every tight corner along the way, a single torch for every twenty feet or so of labyrinth provided the only defence from becoming mutual with another brick wall. Stopping to catch his breath at one last twist, he realized with horror where he was. Absolutely nowhere.  
  
The dead end ballooned out into an old burial chamber, slabs of old stone lying randomly where they had fallen from age across the floor. At least, that’s how it appeared at first. The air was fresh and with a glance upward, he could see the curtains of the throne room again. He had gone completely in a circle.  
  
“Damnit!” His burst of emotion was painful; it had been a long time since he had been so expressive, so afraid. He hated the feeling. But he had to survive, and if this was what it took, then so be it. The cries of dying soldiers echoed into the dusty basement, the horde was running rampant now; it was only a matter of time before every Ikanian lay dead… Piling a few of the broken slabs together, the Deku Lord squeezed himself back into the dark throne room. In the mayhem that ensued at his flight, a chandelier had fallen, shattering glass into every corner, bending its metal into a sort of tearful crown. How fitting.  
  
It was only a matter of time before they returned or searched the corridors he had made his temporary escape into. Maybe he could return back outside the rear gate and somehow be taken back to the woods, back to the naïve bandit and his Stalfos friend… The hope was overbearing, the knowledge that it possibly wouldn’t work was too much to bear at once… But he had to try. Walking forward with a gait from falling down the steps earlier, the Deku Lord tripped again, watching his dagger clatter forward. Swearing he kicked the stones out of his way that he thought had ended his journey forward.  
  
But there were no stones by his feet, only the head of the Garo. And that too, was not even there. In the darkness rested a small metallic cylinder, what the Deku Lord realized had decorated the top of Igos’s throne. A strange power seemed to resonate from it, to the point that it throbbed ever so slightly when he picked it up in already shaking hands. He gazed at his reflection on it shiny surface, tilting his head. Was this the treasure Igos had mentioned in that brief moment?  
  
“Yes, wonderful isn’t it?” The voice shocked him, nearly sending him forward in a dead run once again, but something held him back. Hands at his feet held him back. Torches to either side began to light up once more, illuminating the room with violet flames, bending the shadows malevolently. The Garo swarm drifted out of the gash where the throne wall had once been; they had found him. This was the end. “That Scroll isn’t your normal pretty piece of literature, I assure you of that, Blue Deku.” The voice laughed. The Deku Lord watched his dagger get dragged back to his side by a circle of blackness.  
  
“Do you know what it is?” The Deku Lord watched as a very tall Garo formed in front of him, one that wore several different jewelled necklaces. His eyes were also a different colour. This was the leader they had been speaking of. “Do you know what it can do?” The leader reached forward with a greedy hand. If he were going to die, he would make sure he took some of them with him.  
  
The Deku Lord heaved the container high and over the opposing Hood, ripping his Garo Blade from his side and hacking at the hands around his ankles. With a speed he had no idea he possessed, the wooden traveller dashed forward, retrieving the Scroll from the doorway and turning left in the hallway opposed to the right. It was almost like Déjà vu, except it was going to kill him. He leapt over the bodies of the soldiers who were retrieving the warriors he had dispatched earlier, all bearing a very open throat.  
  
Rain hacked at already swelled face, he crashed through the bloodied puddles he had caused and slid through the thick mud to where he had arrived. Raising his arms to the heavens he wished to be plucked back to the humble woods he had taken for granted. But nothing happened. The Leading Garo suddenly appeared again, blasting through the rear gate doors, taking long strides, hunching his shoulders up as he approached. He laughed with a sad edge to his voice; he was mocking the Deku’s attempt at escape.  
  
“It seems you have no where else to go, Blue Deku. Nothing else to lose.” He pinned his arm to the cliffside and removed the Garo Blade from it. “You insult my kind by using one of our very own weapons, but that also means you’ve shown enough promise to lift it off of one of us. Commendable action, I must admit.” Throwing the sword away like it was worthless, he released the Deku Lord from his grasp. “Now, let me try this again, leaving out all the chances that you can try and flee during. You will give me that Scroll, you do not understand what kind of power it holds and so you should hand it to me.”  
  
“But if I don’t?” The Deku Lord knew the answer he would receive, but felt the need to show that he too was not ready to simply give up, despite being grossly outnumbered.  
  
“You will.” The Leader laughed at that, the rest of the Garo behind him shared in the amusement. “But you see, I’m _very_open minded. If you give it to me, I will bring you along to share in the company of Igos to watch the Ceremony. After that, you will be allowed to leave. Unless you’re filled with such terror that you can never function again.” He guffawed loudly into the rain, his followers joining soon after. It was nearly terrifying. “So tell me, will you do what I want you to?”  
  
“I’ll think about it.”  
  
“No!” The Garo slammed him up against the cliff. “You see, I am BARGAINING for your life, I could simply pluck it out of your sad wooden hands whenever I felt like it. But I enjoy playing games and I, truth be told, am not much for condoning violence.” He chuckled at that, knowing it to be a complete lie. “Come on, be a nice strange little Deku and play Allanon’s Game. You have no other choice. Give me the Scroll. Now.” Allanon closed his grip ever tighter.  
  
***  
  
“Very odd.” The dimmed musical voice of Allanon was the first to register when Mervil and Yazstromo returned to camp and began waking their partners when the sun was cut in half by the plain in the distance. Rose light fell upon every nook and every person, brightening the solemn mood only by its presence, making Tap smile upon awakening and Naomi snicker sleepily at the pinkish tinge to Mervil’s tattered cloak. “I had the most bizarre dream…”  
  
“Oh, what was it about?” Kaz turned his head in wonder at the lanky figure of the Garo as he stood, his set of necklaces dangling with the motion.  
  
“It…was nothing. I forgot it already.” He passed off the lapse and the disappointed look the bandit gave him at being unceremoniously spared from the information. Long strides carried him over the still red coals of their fire and to the Bronze Tower, resting a curious hand on its side while everyone gathered their belongings.  
  
Mervil eyed Allanon carefully, his gaze being met by Tap’s as she attempted to look him in the eye again to see if she could manage not to get chills. It didn’t work. He broke from the Garo’s back to give a hard glance to her, to make her stop wasting time with experiments, as if he could read her mind. She shamed herself away, picking up her cap and dusting it off, plopping it carelessly among her tangled hair.  
  
“Gross…” Railin was holding his nose and obviously forcing a disgusted face, but there was at least a bit of truth to it. He was waving his other hand to direct Galysses away from him. “You smell worse then Dodongo meat rotting in the sun.”  
  
“Shut up.” The Warrior pushed him back, nearly making him lose his balance and laughed along with the bandit.  
  
“My, my, it appears you two have started to get along, would I be correct in stating so?” Yazstromo flashed his same uneven grin for a moment, flicking a spoon in front of his eyes to and fro in boredom. “I guess when it comes down to being alone for days at a time with the other…skeleton to help protect your hides you begin to form a friendship by necessity. Or should I be worried about something else…?” He snorted, nobody else joined in the absent humour, but the Stalfos seemed to cringe as if trying to suppress a painful memory.  
  
“No really, you smell awful.” Kaz was the next to say this, but he made sure to be quite a few running lengths from the Warrior when he decided to join in.  
  
“Well, too bad, does it look like I can fix that anytime soon? And who the hell even says it’s just me, last time I checked it’s been an awfully long while since any of you have bathed in the first place.” Galysses fumed, his permanent smile trying hard to turn upside down to show his distaste.  
  
Mervil rolled his eyes and directed attention to him, quickly jerking a thumb behind him to remind the group of the running stream that curled around the orchard. “If you want to waste time to smell nice, then by all means go ahead.” He quietly stood and began to walk around the edge of the Bronze Tower, peering out at the silent Allanon who remained in the exact same position the entire time.  
  
“Now where do ye think you’re going?” Naomi looked up at Death’s back after kicking out the remaining fire with the worn soil around her. He stopped at the sound of her voice and waited in silence for her to say something else. “Do you even remember what the word ‘bathe’ means?” The breeze began to quicken, bearing a colder touch then everyone had originally felt.  
  
“I don’t smell.” The Deliverer disappeared around the gargantuan building; the heavy doors of the Tower were heard slammed shut soon after. Allanon pulled his hand back and became animated again, almost appearing like a statue that was built along with the ancient structure, it seemed like he had simply forgotten where he was, cocking his head curiously at the circle of people around him.  
  
“Where did Mervil go?” He lifted one of his broaches and turned it in the early light, like he was asking the stone or the air rather than his newfound comrades.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, he should be alone.” Naomi’s voice was grave and almost sounded sad, pitying for a moment. No one noticed but Tap, she began feeling the urge to follow after the cloaked man but soon remembered how badly that could go for her. “Why don’t you do watch for us…”  
  
“Splendid idea.” Allanon let his necklace fall back among the rest, clattering out a calming tune as different metals slid against each other. He immediately drew himself together and sat down, his head bent to the ground. “Galysses, be careful.”  
  
The Stalfos laughed a nervous laugh; he still didn’t necessarily trust the strange man. It seemed like no one did. Was he missing out on something? Either way, he watched the different members wander towards the stream, Naomi and Tap to one extreme and the three men to the other.  
  
“So tell me of the excitement you two were in, Railin, I’ve missed your presence quite a bit.” Yazstromo stood by the river edge, gazing at his own reflection. “It’s tough being around an overly savvy pirate girl, a dark, depressing and bitter man who fancies himself a walking Death and well, Kaz, for long periods of time.”  
  
The tales were spun as they soaked in the water, something Kaz wasn’t particularly fond of, he could almost still taste the salt of the ocean where he had spent a good deal of time wading in. And thinking back to that day brought the wrenching experiences he had on the island; he wished to forget about it. It was a relief of the burden to talk to his friend again, he was always concerned about Railin’s safety; they had grown up together after all. The stories he had to share made the problems of Arivis seem so far away…  
  
Galysses heard the loud and cackling laughter of Yazstromo from the many feet he had separated himself from the rest calling “into a million boney pieces you say?” not wishing to see him and Railin keep such close company. He shivered again. The water was cool and rushed all among him, it had been quite a long while, his bones felt and looked like they had nearly been bleached by the sun.  
  
“A Deku you say, with blue eyes? How peculiar… an outcast of sorts, seeing as he lived alone, you said?” Yazstromo’s curious tone drifted along the way, slightly louder then the slow patter of the water against the stony bed edges. “Sounds almost familiar to me, not sure why.”  
  
“He was a freak, that’s all, up and disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving us to fend for ourselves.” Galysses barked his sentiments downwind. The others glanced his way and continued their excited chatter like nothing was wrong in the world. He rolled his eyes and sank deeper into the mud, listening to the wind blow around them with a new intensity; it began to lull him back into a dazed state. The talk between Naomi and Tap farther up was lost on his ears, but he didn’t care what they had to say, he didn’t care what any of them had to say.  
  
And that was when he could feel a strange sense fall around him, like he was being watched from afar. The Stalfos’ eyes flickered to life and peered down at the men and up at the women, none of them spared him any time to gawk at. Perhaps Mervil was using a window at some point to watch over them while he did Gods know what inside that Tower he seemed to love. But as he shifted around in the running water his glance met with the uncomfortable dim stare of Allanon. Perched like a shadow on the sandy expanse, he kept his head down at a slight angle, boring his gaze into the Warrior.  
  
Neither of them said a word and Allanon did not shrug away when it was obvious Galysses discovered what he was doing. “What a freak…” The Stalfos uncomfortably turned back and slid up to his eyes in the tugging current, looking out at the swirling desert, swearing he could see the fallen Numen sand inch about like worms. Shaking his head and letting the water rush over his head for a second, the illusion was gone.  
  
“Why is he like that?” Tap twisted her cap free of the clear water, watching a steady stream of brown fall out on the sandy edge, making a face as she shaped it back onto her head. She wasn’t granted a reply, Naomi remained in the water looking solemnly up at the Bronze Tower, the sun another few notches higher into the sky behind it. “I wish I could understand him…”  
  
“No one understands Death, Tap.”Her voice was empty and unchecked, showing her mind was wandering about to other things that remained unspoken. “You shouldn’t be any different. None of us could probably ever be able to figure out what goes on in that head of his.” From the corner of her eye she could see the slight shadow of the Tower doors opening and then returning to the position they had been in for centuries. Death was afoot.  
  
“But wouldn’t it be incredible to hear what he has to say, the things he keeps from us?” The Innocent didn’t receive another word again, reserving herself to share in the silence with the woman at her side. Minutes passed, the idle words of the men downstream ended, all that remained visible of Galysses was the very top of his slightly browned skull. In the centre of their packed bags and cloaks sat the ever murky form of Allanon, spinning another one of his necklaces in his shaking hands.  
  
“Aren’t you all nearly done yet?” Again with the choir like voice, the newest member called out to no one in particular, his voice mimicking a need to hurry. No one wanted the moment of rest to end, knowing that at some point they would be facing off against Arivis, and he would not be as easily diverted as the last time. “This is so incredibly boring, your company suits me nothing.”  
  
Everyone remained in their own section of the river. Yazstromo appeared to be dozing, Railin was picking at the grass and Kaz’s eyes seemed to wander up and down the river for no apparent reason. With a satisfied feeling of cleanliness, Tap sloshed loudly out of the stream with all the grace of a Moblin, walking cautiously back to the camping circle. Allanon curved the angle of his head to her with her arrival.  
  
“You are the Innocent, correct?” The Garo pushed himself off of the ground silently and reached out to the stunned girl, his gauntlet breaking into the rays of sunlight. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, but continued, finally gracing her cheek. It was here that she finally noticed how tall Allanon really was, it was intimidating to say the least. The touch was foreign and made her skin crawl, the cold metal traced her cheekbone and he cocked his head to the left. “Yes… strange how you of all the children of thieves would become such a redeemed member of world safety.”  
  
“Don’t touch me.” Tap battered his hand aside, where he almost yearningly pulled it back into the dimming shadow of the Bronze Tower. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about, and I don’t even know why you’re here. Mervil hasn’t even acknowledged you as being important in the first place…”  
  
“You shouldn’t be worried about such details, Innocent.” It was almost impossible to walk away, somehow that voice of his kept Tap firmly planted in front of him. “With the passing of the next Moon my role will become clear and will have been acted upon. I just find it hard to fathom just how long I have waited for that day.” Without another word he spun back around, walking toward the shadows again, slumping up against the Bronze Tower like he was tired.  
  
Tap looked back at a sheepishly staring Naomi; her look seemed to share the same sentiments. He certainly was an odd one. At least more odd than the rest of the guys on the team. She swept her eyes across the expanse, watching the grey remains of Numen dance in the air with those of the desert; it was beautiful in a disturbing sort of way. It was then that she noticed yet again the wandering eyes of Kaz, he immediately seemed flustered and looked away; Tap pretended that she hadn’t seen him and started walking around the Tower.  
  
“I wouldn’t be doing that.” Naomi was suddenly behind her, hissing the warning like a demand. “As much as you already know how ridiculous the behaviour is in the first place, I don’t think Mervil is in the mood for visitors.”  
  
“Oh well, that’s nothing new, now is it?” Tap gave a sort of half grin, expecting her response to be taken as clever, her female friend showed no crack in her serious face. “I’ll just have to test my luck. What’s the worst he could do, kill me? We can’t have that, I’m needed.”  
  
“Actually, you’re not.”  
  
The two of them jumped at the sound of the cold gruff voice of their subject. Mervil was leaning at an awkward angle against the Tower around the nearest bend, his head pinned upward, gazing at the sun. It was strange seeing his face fully illuminated like that, his scar appeared even more gruesome then it had originally.  
  
“I have a question.” It was Tap speaking again, despite the shock and anger the man probably held for her subjecting him to casual talk, she behaved like nothing had happened. “Where did you get that scar?”  
  
Naomi glanced partly at her ancient comrade and to whom she was slowly starting to consider a very foolish girl. Was it just her, or was Tap rather brave to be pushing such questions, to make attempts to open up the shell of Death’s mind? If Mervil held true to any of his old qualities, he was likely near ready to take someone’s head off. Someone with a very red cap.  
  
The relaxed, or was it more easily defined as pained, expression on the Wanderer’s face changed to fury in a second, making Tap regret her choice immediately. But soon it faded, he looked so tired, so…would she be right in calling it sad?  
“It doesn’t matter, Innocent.” He rolled his head lazily in her direction against the shining metal wall, his eyes dark with an unexplained rage. “If you recall I did happen to mention that you dying was of no importance to us. Or were you too busy trying to figure out what makes me who I am? For I assure you, that’s a wasted effort.”  
  
“Stop being insolent, Death. If you’re trying to scare her into thinking you’re ready to snap, you might as well quit.” The Rito smiled her usual mocking smile, shuffling a boot out in front of her with a small arc. “You know that you still need all of us, Arivis isn’t necessarily the same as he was all those years ago.”  
  
“Take a lesson from your own words, Naomi. Learn when to keep your mouth shut. People have been killed for…” In a sharp ending, Mervil stood up, a look of pure puzzlement gracing his withered features. “This can’t be right.” He gazed down at the ground, the other two joining him. The shadow of the Bronze Tower was moving ever so slowly eastward. Jerking his head upward and darting out to get a better look, Mervil’s face grew hard and expressionless.  
  
“We have to leave.”  
  
“What’s going –?  
  
Tap was taken by the hand, not by Naomi as she had expected, but by Mervil as he nearly soared out into the sight of the babbling river. No one else had taken notice of whatever had set the Wanderer off. They were soon to find out. His cold iron grip made the Innocent feel protected, though she had no idea why.  
  
“Move it, now!” Mervil swung his free arm downward, scooping up his lone extra satchel, neatly adding Tap’s belongings in the same grasp. There was an immediate hubbub, Allanon was running around dazed, as if woken from a strange trance; Yazstromo and the bandits were up and out of the water drenched to the skin, their hair matted down; Galysses was nowhere in sight.  
  
“Get out of the water, you bag o’ bones!” Naomi was off to what appeared to be a random part of the orchard lined beck, swiftly bending down and grabbing onto a stone, only to show the rest by yanking the Warrior into the air.  
  
“What the hell do you want?” His distained voice sent out gushes of the sparkling water, breaking the reflections of some of the trees. When he joined the group he still openly complained while they took to running up the slight slope that headed away from the Bronze Tower. Upon following the fervent looks that Mervil was giving the sky, he could see the sun covered by disturbingly familiar sand. The Numen remains spreading out around them were shivering. “Gods…”  
Mervil could feel his chest ache as he pumped his legs up the slipping sand dunes, the cold winds from earlier should have warned him of this omen. The Demon was far cleverer then he had been those years during the War… His ‘General’ was nothing more than a cursed Numen, one that would stir the rest of his fallen comrades into action whenever the time seemed right. In some way Arivis had complimented them, expected them to defeat his forces, and made this plan to drown them out in the desert.  
  
Now wasn’t the time to feel warm and fuzzy about the potential positive outlook the Demon had assigned their ragtag collection. The wind was deafening now, almost carrying a maddened laughter to its sound, like the Numen were mocking them. They were in the right to do so, as their remains formed cylindrical columns to all sides that added to the bulging grey cloud, a sense of failure tempered into their minds.  
  
“Everyone take to the skies, it’s the only way we’ll be able to outrun this…thing!” Yazstromo was the one speaking this time; it was strange to hear him speaking of flying, knowing rightly that only Naomi and perhaps a spell in Mervil’s book would enable such travel. But it seemed that after all this time the wizard was hiding a secret stash of things other than prized utensils. In a flash he presented a large faded rug, pulling the closest person to him onto it, Railin, filling the capacity. With no surprise it rocketed ahead of the rest of the group, hovering only inches above the ground.  
  
“Get on!” Naomi’s wings scooped up lonely Tap, who immediately tried to scramble on her back, knocking her balance completely off. It only took a second for her to regain her senses, slowly rising into the sky with the beats of her wings. She flew over the rattling form of Galysses, swinging down in one last moment to latch her feet against each of his collarbones. They too rose into the sky, having much more luck than Yazstromo had on his carpet. “You’re a bit heavy, you know that?” She called down trying to lighten the apocalyptic mood to no avail.  
  
“What about Mervil and Kaz?” Tap was feeling queasy already, the air rushing past her head took any guard she could have off, she could almost feel herself the pain from her iron grip she had on Naomi’s shoulders. Again she was given the silent treatment, or maybe she had just imagined speaking. It was natural to her to keep her mouth shut whenever she knew she might expel more than her breath. Trying to turn away she could already see how high they had gotten, the two men on the sands below were almost like black dots than anything else.  
  
Mervil gazed upward at the sky, watching as the cloud amalgamated into a storm of swirling greyness, almost mimicking a Numen in shape. He passed that off as imagination despite how possible that could have been, another attempt to intimidate them unto their ‘untimely deaths’. It was then he finally noticed Allanon’s darting form being overtaken by the storm of Numen, his glowing eyes being pulled away with him into utter darkness. He swore under his breath but felt no sympathy; if the aging fool couldn’t keep up then he would be no use to them, not like he was in the first place.  
Without warning a stone was uncovered by the gusts, taking Mervil’s feet out from under him, sending him rolling forward down a steep dune. Swearing and pounding his feet against the sand he stumbled back to his feet, looking back in horror. The Staff of Moons lay propped at an angle in the sand dozens of feet away. And Kaz was running back to it, the Numen cluster bearing down to ground level, screeching forward.  
  
The bandit ran as fast as he could, pumping his arms and legs in perfect unison with each other, nearly flying across the sandy expanse. Near darkness had fallen around him, the madness of the Numen bore down on the world, rushing to meet him at the same destination. They were buzzing incoherently, prepared to rip through him and the remainder of his group if possible. Cold metal met his hand, the overbearing feeling of Death left him in the moment; spinning on his heel Kaz released a blast of white energy. The force blew him backwards and did nothing to the Numen cloud rather than disperse a few feet of it.  
  
Death was about him, picking up his fallen body, scorning him for something he couldn’t hear over the noise of the storm ahead of them. A feeling of weightlessness took over as Mervil leapt into the air, his book circling around them slowly, glowing a strange hue of violet. They were quickly closing the gap between the other pairs, Naomi seemed to be having a hard time holding Galysses steady and Yazstromo appeared in grave danger, his carpet slowing as it smashed through multiple sand dunes.  
  
“Make yourself lighter or something!” The Rito’s voice carried down to a distraught Galysses, his legs kicking wildly even though he had already been warned to cease the action or doom them all to a crash landing. He grunted a reply that he knew was inaudible and racked his brain for a solution. Dropping his sword would be foolish, even if it were going to be replaced soon enough, other than that… The shield. The shield he had been given by, now who was it a gift from? Without hesitation, he shrugged the strap off of his boney shoulder, hearing it being snapped away by their velocity. Naomi let out a sigh of relief, taking them higher with more stability.  
  
“I’m going to be sick!” Railin reeled as the carpet began to pull itself to the right, its fabric torn in various places beneath him. Watching the sand dart beneath them would have been discouraging enough if it already weren’t being thrown in his face every minute. Yazstromo sat beside him laughing, his long beard flapping in the wind.  
  
“Try to keep it in a little longer; this thing is worth at least half of my collection!” At that they hit a dune with a stone bottom, sending them several feet into the air, finally freeing their faces of sand. But their excitement in the moment of new air was ended when the spinning shield of Galysses screamed into them, tearing through the carpet and crashing loudly against the ground those feet below. Railin grabbed hold of the torn edge, listening to the cries of the Scholar at what had happened. At least it hadn’t split one of their skulls in half.  
  
Somehow the ruining of the carpet increased its ability, likely tearing off a magically tampered section, making them rise higher and travel faster. Railin’s feet finally finished skimming the ground and he was able to pull himself back onto the fabric, squeezed against the Scholar’s back. No one had noticed the murder nearly committed by the rogue shield, for the cloud behind them was beginning to spread its wake ever closer. Yazstromo continued to cackle in pure mirth. It was at that moment each of the clan saw the shining surface of the ocean, the shadow of Naomi’s ship slowly bobbing from the tides.  
  
“Help the poor fools down there. All you have to do is set your mind to staying in flight.” Mervil’s gruff voice carried down through the invisible bubble his book seemed to carry them in. “You should manage to make it to the ship in time before the Numen overtakes the shore, make sure not to touch it.” He waved to the book and waited for a second opinion, but he only received a bewildered look, like Kaz had never heard him speak before. There was a latent sigh shared in the recess of the Wanderer’s mind. “Just do this one thing.” Without another wasted opportunity for exchange, Mervil held the Staff of Moons close to his chest, dropping back into the desert, looking over his shoulder to see Kaz wobbling down to pick up the Scholar and his bandit friend. Stretching a hand out beneath him, he caught a handful of sand and immediately flung himself upright, staring down the accelerating wall of grey sand.  
  
“Now let’s try this again.” The Wanderer set the heavy staff to his right, hearing it strike against a hard bottom before releasing the grip. He quickly attended to his gloved hand, looking it over with an expression of disgust before finally pulling its covering free, folding it nicely into an inside pocket. In front of him his hand phased in and out of existence. Mervil reminded himself that the pain would be worth it. It had been the last time and it wouldn’t be any different now. A tension he had felt running through his body since that morning disappeared the moment he retrieved the staff with his trembling hand, immediately knocking his breath away as its power coursed through his body. “This should be joyous.”  
  
Slashing a wide arc with his feet, Mervil turned and began to flee in the direction he had originally been travelling. The pain from his arm was dizzying, nearly enough to stop him dead in his tracks but his willpower proved too much a force to reckon with. Looking sullenly at the Staff of Moons, he watched it to begin to appear transparent, adding its strength to his own. His eyesight began to flow with a blue light, distorting the image of his group until he had no idea if he was running the right way. Now was the time, it would have to do.  
  
Mervil watched as the others landed hard on the deck of Naomi’s ship, its owner taking the wheel and Galysses raising its anchor. Hopefully they would be far enough away. It was the first time he shuddered at the thought of potentially causing an unneeded death; a voice in the back of his head told him to detach himself from their wellbeing. This was for everyone else’s.  
  
Brine that had nearly dried on the ship’s bow was torn from place as the heavy weight of Naomi’s complete package slammed hard against the deck. She tumbled forward nearly falling off the railing nearby, when she righted herself and took hold of the wheel, she spun it hard to the left. The sudden movement had Kaz almost meet the same fate. When he landed with the collective of Yazstromo and Railin, Mervil’s book slammed shut, sliding far away into his dark cabin from potential prying hands. If I hadn’t been so terrifying to look at they probably would have considered it a splendid wonder.  
  
Railin was at work freeing the sails so they could take advantage of the heavy winds that the Numen cloud was carrying. His bandit friend was nearly retching despite not even close to entering the open water. From the very edge of his sight he noticed that Mervil had stopped, that whatever he had given away his book for wasn’t merely to help them but to do something else. A bright white light shot out from his right hand, burning a sharp arc into the air before curling down to the Wanderer’s left hand.  
  
“You have been marked.” Mervil’s vision became filled with a brilliant white light as the Numen horde overtook him, swarming around the shield he had developed from the Staff of Moons. Echoes of laughter, of painful death filled his ears; he could feel the uncontrolled force pushing him away from the enemy. If he weren’t careful he would be sent flying out into the ocean, this time made worthless, his life claimed. “This is your second. Therefore, your life is mine!”  
  
“No!” Yazstromo was finished his adrenaline filled stupor and nearly threw himself overboard during the sharp spin they had been set on. It was over, the Cloud had swallowed the Wanderer, whatever plan he was trying to implement had failed. Or had he performed one last stand to ensure they could escape? Either way now that it had failed, the Scholar’s mind wandered back to earlier that morning. How ironic it all seemed…  
  
“Get away from the portside!” Naomi’s voice was swallowed up by the thundering crash they heard as the grey mass hit the water, racing after them. Its speed appeared unhindered by the change of conditions, but it was obvious it was tearing through the top few feet of water as undertows began to form all around the ship. Another clap of thunder meet there ears but this time it was caused by a storm a good distance ahead of them. “Just bloody brilliant!” The Rito completely changed direction as the ocean levels began to sag and rise by the whim of the Numen behind them.  
  
“Count on Death dying during a most terrible fix!” The Scholar was watching the distance between their untimely suffocation by leftover Numen dust fell short. It sounded just as nasty as it had been the first time he formulated it in back of his mind. A heavy wave of water crashed up over the side of the ship, washing Galysses off his feet sending him into another spiral of curses. But his fall turned out to be more disastrous, Naomi’s ship was suddenly being dragged downward, slowing it down significantly.  
  
“Wait a second, somebody help!” The skeletal figure of Galysses was lost among the foam and the traffic of the open sea, the laughter of the Numen hovered over _The Lady Chieftain_. With as much energy as he could afford to expend, Galysses tore his blade into the hull of the deck, watching as it cut through several boards in succession. Large gasps for air could be heard on the upper area as Naomi tried to pull them away from the malevolent currents trying to swallow her ship whole. It wasn’t working. The swirling mass of disturbed water glared up at them; soon it would be too late to escape its wake.  
  
The wind was deafening over the already so rush of water. Galysses had finally stopped thanks to catching a much thicker support beam below decks, his eyes darted about in fear. He had always hated the high seas, especially when being chased by something as supernatural as reanimated Numen remains. Somewhere beyond his current ridiculing of his cowardice he remembered that somehow, someway he needed to get out of this alive; yet, the giggling of the massive collection cried only damnation.  
  
It was at this point that the tug of the currents began to ebb, the winds began to dwindle. A horrible dreadful sense fell upon the air. Was this some kind of trick, a way to suit the mood of the situation, a disgusting trick of relief? No, the Warrior knew that answer immediately as he watched the buzzing Numen begin to slow, a continually brightening orb of blue forming in its center.  
  
There was an explosion mere seconds afterward, rocking the boat and pushing it further away from the forming whirlpools. It had been a very long time since any of them had heard the screams of Numen; it seemed they had gone mute for their last few encounters with the creatures. Now the contrast was just as frightening as it was when the sound first met their ears. Silhouettes of the hooded figures were sent flying overhead, the giant grey form cracked and disintegrated in large chunks, sending waves out in every direction as the form crashed into the ocean.  
  
Mervil could be seen floating with varying beams of white light circling him, the Staff of Moons only present with every flash. The Numen around him tried to attack but fell short as they were incinerated by the spells darting in protective manners. He spun around to face their ship a few dozen feet ahead and below, his eyes completely overtaken by the familiar colour of the weapon he held. In a flash of movement he removed the Staff from his person, heaving it down to the waiting ship below, smashing into the deck at Tap’s side. She bent down to remove it but the heat it emanated was simply too much to bear, it was glowing a perilous white.  
  
In a more exaggerated motion, Mervil struck his scythe to life with flames, holding it to his side. The Numen took the break in magical energy as a green light to try attacking again; it didn’t work. Spinning it around him, Death motioned with his free hand at nothing in particular causing his hiding book to burst through the cabin ceiling and return to its owner. Flipping the pages in the wind at what appeared random; Mervil moved the flaming weapon to his front where it suddenly turned the most ominous black imaginable.  
  
For a moment, and just for one, the group could have sworn Mervil had taken on a slightly different appearance, like he had grown peculiar wings. Naomi pushed this away as a trick of the light the second they disappeared, when he unleashed his scythe into the mess of the Numen collective. A second explosion rocked the sea and blew the ship completely out of the water, allowing it to escape the crushing blow the Cloud made when it finally was consumed by the ocean. When they returned to the angry grey water everyone was knocked off their feet, a few planks on the body buckled but there was no outstanding damage.  
  
Mervil was back on the deck, breathing heavily, staring down on his hands and knees hard as if to set the ship aflame. His scythe was gone; a large burn mark covered his normal hand. Lightning flashed above, arcing from cloud to cloud, his eyes appeared dead under his hood. But that was nothing new. No one gave any concern to his condition because he would not respond to his name being called. The last thing he remembered seeing was the bulging black thunderclouds directly overhead and the silhouettes of Naomi and Tap standing over him. The world seemed so much darker now.  
  
*  
  
Shadows filled his vision. He had never slept this much before, at least in the last lifetime. It helped that he had nearly killed himself from exhaustion. Maybe rest would have spared him this fate. For the first week of the return trip on the high seas, Mervil was imprisoned in his cabin, only the darkness as his friend. He had asked for them to leave him alone as much as possible, if they wanted to give him food they would pass it down onto his bedside table through the hole his book had punched through the ceiling.  
  
In the first days of his chatter through his delirious sleep they had all stood beside him, listening to Gods know what. Revealing any secrets would both pain and embarrass him, even if he carried no burden beyond the most serious pieces of information. It was during this time he was able to catch the tones of their voices, at least those of Tap and Naomi; they sounded genuinely worried for him. Too bad he could care less whatever sickening connection they felt had been forged between them during their travels, especially the Rito…  
  
He also heard in the dim light when they had found Allanon, unconscious and floating in the ocean a few hours after the incident with the Numen Cloud. Apparently he was able to survive from being killed from both Mervil’s magic and the savage nature of the creatures. Such a peculiar Garo he was, some things would never change.  
  
Today, whatever day it happened to be, the Wanderer would overcome his forced fatigue, his near sacrifice of life would include the salvation of it. The day pervious he had tried to get out of bed and had nearly succeeded, defeated by the surging pain through his left arm. But this discomfort was all worth it.  
  
Mervil found it most amusing that in a time where most people would be there for a comrade or a friend, that he was rarely bothered. Perhaps his convoluted and malignant babble had revealed his true feelings for some of the others, making them reluctant to return. That would be foolish though, what he spoke were merely words, what would his opinion matter to the lot of them. It made him angry that they were trying to show him compassion in a world that was devoid of it. Somehow he had always wished that everything that graced the green earth would mimic its true malevolent nature. He would then wipe it completely clean.  
  
“Dinner time.” Whose voice was this? It sounded feminine, but that could also include the nervous squeaks of the two bandits whenever they seemed to be with twenty feet of him. Mervil heard the plate clatter and a cup of water or ale or at least something maybe worth drinking set down with a loud echo. He hadn’t eaten or drank in the week past, they would come in and remove the untouched food and pour the water down this throat to keep him alive. “Are you awake?” The delivering individual’s head peered down from the hole, the dim sunlight behind them shadowing their entire face.  
  
“Leave me alone.” His own voice sounded alien to him, but what could he expect from a week of lying half-conscious and breathing in the stuffy air of the cabin? It had wreaked havoc on his throat, making his voice sound even rougher than before.  
  
“Aww, poor Death is a bit crabby, is he?” It was the damned old man. Yazstromo’s cheeky grin peered down at him through the hole, his beard dangling just out of ripping reach. That man had the greatest sense of luck it seemed almost supernatural. “Oh well, I can’t blame you, lying in a bed with nothing but your own stink and your thoughts to keep you entertained.” The Scholar suddenly picked himself back up and called out across the deck to the others with his charismatic voice. “The old crow’s up!”  
  
The first person to the door was the captain, a look of worry was on her face for a brief second when she threw the door open and it was replaced with a scowl.  
  
“About time you decided to be of any use to us.” She folded her arms and paced to his side, glaring down at him, surprised by how blue his eyes seemed to be in the near darkness. “Though I must say, it still doesn’t look like it.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Mervil closed his eyes and pulled himself so he was sitting straight up. The heads of the rest of the crew save for Railin and likely a still wounded Allanon began to look into the dark cabin. “Where’s my book?” There was no answer, even when he repeated himself.  
  
“We…don’t know where it went.” He recognized Tap’s voice through the mix; her tone reeked of fear, which was good. But he could care less, this had happened before, the book disappearing in the middle of the night. Some would swear it had a mind of its own, but Mervil knew that to be true, and in a sense it was like an extension of himself somehow. Without all the pathetic human bits getting in the way. “Okay?” She had been expecting an outburst, too bad that belief had to be dashed, not like she even wanted to be yelled at after all they had just gone through.  
“It’ll show up eventually. Can you at least tell you me you didn’t lose Allanon?”  
  
“He’s actually been across the cabin the entire time… in some sort of trance ever since we fished him out of the ocean. I’ve had fun poking him and listening to his inane babble that escapes him.” Yazstromo winked at the Wanderer and suddenly pulled himself back, cocking an eyebrow from what he had done, what he had meant by his words. Ever since the knock to the head the old man had been acting a bit more off his rocker than usual. “He woke up once, requesting to speak with you but we had to break his little heart. Or whatever it is Garo have.”  
  
“Well, he can just wake me up the next time. Get out.” Mervil narrowed his eyes, especially at Naomi, he had saved them all and she continued to give him her stinging attitude. “If you would.” He struggled with trying to give a comforting smile, like they even needed one, but it only seemed like a sneer at best. Too bad, that was the best he could manage.  
  
When they were gone the Wanderer rested his head against the pillows that had moulded to fit its shape. The motion of the ocean beneath them started to rock him back to sleep, his hands were shaking, but that wasn’t something new. It always happened when he used so much energy or was enraged. He couldn’t actually be certain what was causing it this time, his visit inside the Bronze Construct or… Unable to finish his thought as a surge of pain filled him, nothing physical but a pain he had grown to know so well. Mervil fell back asleep to escape its overpowering control.  
  
It was a dreamless sleep; at last he was spared of those nightmares. Each time he thought about them it brought him back to the beginning, the dark shadows that haunted him days before the Autumn Festival. And it was when he next opened his eyes that he was covered in darkness, that of a near starless night and the hunched figure of Allanon gazing down at him.  
  
“You’re awake.” The Garo cocked his head to the left and his faded eyes flickered up and down Mervil’s face. “I was wondering if you would be okay ever since you destroyed the Numen Cloud, it seems like you’ve come out with no damage at all. Your power amazes me now just as it did the first time.”  
  
“Yes, well, that first time is a scar on your record, no doubt.” This wasn’t the time to start thinking into the past, he hated it so much. “I know you’ve been looking all this time, it just seems a wonder you found me at the highest time of need and of distress.” The Wanderer tried to force a sleepy tone; maybe the oddity would leave him alone if he knew the focus just wasn’t there. But there seemed to be no change in subject, no show of compassion. What could he expect; this Allanon was a monster if he hadn’t ever known one.  
  
The lean Garo laughed, pulling his head back to gaze out the hole in the ceiling. Musical qualities even applied to his laugh, what was it about him that made him both repulsive and so very interesting? “And not at a better time, when I am needed most. I have waited every since that day, read up on all the documentation I could find. When the Legend is fulfilled I will have known my life has been lived for a reason beyond senseless violence.”  
  
Mervil tried to respond but the sudden change of outlook came as a surprise. It had been a long time since he ever heard someone so convinced they had changed, so sincere. Maybe there was a hope, but even then, Allanon’s identity pulled away from the true meaning.  
  
“I’ve been told that you are the Prophet we will need to be seeking very soon.” The Wanderer looked past the hooded comrade and into the night; the moon was out, its light reflecting off of the water and dancing reflections across the drawn sails. “Or, to word it correctly, believe you are in fact the Prophet.” The air grew stiff when the words left his mouth; it was obvious the Garo knew more then he had originally been granted.  
  
“You can’t possibly mean…” Allanon’s eyes were alight with a new passion that appeared to be anger rather than wonder. “You can’t be implying that I am… No, you’re wrong; you just haven’t seen it yet. When I first saw you, when I first stood in your presence I knew you were part of something much bigger and that in some way I would be by your side. My power cannot be something I was arbitrarily granted by the Gods above.”  
  
“But you must think about it, we have all three pieces of the Staff of Moons.”  
  
“What bother is that?” Swiftly the Garo spun around, his back to the half sitting Mervil. “I wouldn’t have been guided, entrusted with the safety of that piece, to come and deliver it to you, along with the Warrior of all beings! Can’t you see, I play no minor role in this business, I must have been chosen to help you.”  
  
“Yet, even if you were what I think you are. You would still have your –  
  
“No, Wanderer, you simply don’t understand! As the Prophet I know nearly every nook and cranny of this dastardly legend. It has worked as spoken and cannot be changed, cannot be altered. I will not be reduced after all this time of waiting, of yearning to change my ways.”  
  
“_Nearly_” Mervil swung his legs out onto the swaying floor, a bit uncoordinated from being strapped to his bed for nearly the entire trip home. “Here, let us go for a walk.” He motioned toward the slightly fuming cloaked member beside him, pointing to the slightly ajar door. They joined each other as the door was swung open and a stiff breeze blew into their faces, ruffling their clothes around them. “Do you see this land? This Sea? I grew up here. I lived and I died here.”  
  
“If you mean the powers you were granted, they are nothing of a curse, nothing to bring yourself a Death wish.”  
  
“No one would understand how I see it, I have lived in the shadows of Crandall longer than anyone would ever care to. When the legend began to unfold I had a choice to make. I would both live for Hyrule and protect it or I would return here to my true home and walk its hallowed halls until _their_ kingdom fell. At least they would be allowed some peace.” Death walked to the edge, careful not to trip in the carved path Galysses had made with his sword to save himself.  
  
“Then why have you bothered keeping the Book, staying, breathing the lives and deaths of thousands around you? If it pains you so much to remember, then why not end it?”  
  
“I have a duty to finish.” Mervil clenched his gloved fist, realizing it burned him still; he ignored the shooting pain. “I have things to avenge; I have memories to give meaning to. Arivis is my own personal demon. I will kill him if it is the last thing I do. He took everything away from me and I will make sure to take everything away from him!” He could feel his anger sapping away at his strength, he still needed his rest, but if he knew correctly, they would make landfall very soon. Then he would have to take what he had and make the most use of it.  
  
Allanon didn’t look at him; he stood fondling his necklaces as usual, the salty winds whipping his cloak around his gauntleted hands. “I will do the legend proud, Mervil. I will follow the rules it has granted me.”  
“You are not the Prophet, Allanon.”  
  
The Garo sighed heavily tightening his grip around a rectangular stone. “If you are right, then so be it. I am going to redeem myself one way or another, Prophet or not, I am paying back my debt for what I have done.”  
  
Mervil turned away, gazing at the moon high above and the shadow of Naomi still directing the ship toward shore. How beautiful the world was, maybe it was just these times under the stars he actually lived for. It wouldn’t matter, judgment would come.  
  
“Does it still hurt?” The Wanderer asked, peering over his shoulder where the Garo merely met the stare. Slowly he unpinned his cloak, displaying a large and familiar ugly scar across his chest.  
  
“Everyday.”  
  
*  
  
The morning after next they were set for landfall. Things seemed to have worked out for the better overnight, Mervil awoke to his book lying at his left side, as tattered as ever. Allanon had reserved himself to resting in the same cabin as Galysses now that he had finished his talk with the Wanderer. No doubt he still was filled with the ideas of following the Legend until the end, making sure that nothing would go wrong. Sometimes fate enjoyed being a bastard.  
Someone had visited him in the night, a slight smell of incense was on the air, and it was likely the Innocent at fault. After all she had seen and gone through, she still followed the Gods. Her prayers were wasted on him; no one would want his soul in the first place. Mervil found himself cursing for no reason, anger brewing from the thought of Tap spreading her wishes to him, to all of them. It would not be through any godly intervention that Arivis would be stopped; it would have to be from theirs.  
  
And again, Mervil could have sworn another one of them had stopped by to pay some kind of condolences or to mock his weakened state. If that Naomi had come by to provide any pity… He shook the vehement thoughts away and worked on opening his heavy eyes. Today might be the last time he would ever see the dawn. Such an incorrect way to start a final leg, the beginning, a fresh start and not in the final breaths of daylight; later on the true feeling of death would befall them.  
  
“Do you have that feeling too, of hateful and dead weight on your shoulders?” The pouting face of Kaz peered in from the roof opening. Damn it all, if they lived and would ever travel on this ship he would fix that himself.  
  
“Tell me, why would you even care?” The Wanderer removed himself from his bed for the second time since the attack back at the Bronze Construct, his legs still wobbly beneath his weight. “You’re just a tagalong; you, your friend and now the Innocent prove of no use to our mission. I can tell you one thing, if you even start to try to ‘understand’ what is about to happen, what has been going on while we have gallivanted around half the damn planet, I’ll mark you for boundless ignorance!” Mervil lifted his book and dumped it into a hidden pocket within his patched cloak. “You’re supposed to try to prove to me that you deserve what you have, your life, so far I’ve seen nothing but the same sad bandit that tired to rob me at day one.”  
  
“Look, I can’t stop apologizing for –  
  
“Save your breath. I may give second chances at life, but I do not give second chances for people.” Mervil paced towards the door, hearing Kaz’s laboured footsteps above him. Allanon made this legend so confusing… “We already have the Redeemed, Kaz. You’re not it, I kept you along thinking you would be. When we make landfall, you, Railin and Tap can leave. You won’t be anything more than obstacles. It’ll be taking out the trash, if you will.” Pressing the door open he noticed extra force behind it. Bashing through he finally realized he had more than one intruder, a shocked face from Tap glared up into his.  
  
The look of pure horror had seemed to twist the Innocent’s features into an indescribable knot. If the girl started to cry he wasn’t sure if he would laugh and continue being the sadist he was or just to ignore it. Crying would show exactly how far she was from being useful in combat, her emotions seemed to control her actions; pitiful.  
  
“You’re a bastard.” Tap’s eyes grew dark and peered out to the horizon, trying not to look into the cold eyes she knew were staring down at her. “Up to this point you wouldn’t even have been able to get anything done, putting the Staff of Moons together would have been impossible without me. And now you just want to drop me off, make me worthless?” Her voice gained courage as it raised a few tones, but she still couldn’t make her eyes meet his. “You don’t know anything do you, you don’t know how to treat people, you live to watch them suffer and die under your stupid judgment!”  
  
“I enjoy watching the wicked shrivel into blithering imbeciles under my power!” The Wanderer placed his gloveless hand on her face, lifting it towards his so she had no other choice but to look at him. “There are people who have died needless deaths thanks to disgusting and vile people. I bring justice where the unjust run rampant and the rest of the world either ignore them or cower in hopeless blight.”  
  
“They deserve better than what you’ve done to them.” Knocking his hand away Tap kept her ground, she could swear the blazing blue eyes to her front had started to grow darker. She was beginning to lose that unnerved feeling she got every time she was near Mervil.  
  
“And they made their damning choice! They threw away their lives to follow in unholy steps and I follow their path, eventually catching up to give them what they deserve. If you want filth running around your fields then so be it, but I will not stop until all of the guilty souls are punished.”  
  
“You will never understand compassion.” It was Naomi this time, jumping gracefully down from the upper deck and landing on the left side of her feuding comrades.  
  
The air grew suddenly cold, a breeze lifting up from the East, pushing the ship toward what felt like its demise. Mervil glanced out to meet the analyzing face of the Rito, a hard line nearly masking where his mouth was. “Stay out of this.” It was apparent to everyone within earshot, the entire crew, that the Wanderer’s voice had dropped its edge from quarrelling to almost pleading anger. “I will not hear this speech.”  
  
“Run away then, like you always do.” Naomi regretted every word as she realized what she had said. The chill was choking now but seemed to ebb at every second.  
  
“Stay with us then, Innocent, bandits. Face death like we will be, watch a world crumble beneath its feet. Stare the Demon in the eye and ask yourself if you would rather be with him then anywhere else.” Mervil’s hands were visibly shaking, making it seem like he was holding back a spell that would obliterate them all. “The world will forget you just as it has with any and every person to grab onto a righteous gauntlet. You will be condemned to the shadow of eternity and waste. And Naomi…” He lifted his head back up, his eyes dark with fury. “I have killed for less. You are still here because I choose you to be. Don’t give me reason to choose otherwise.”  
  
“You can’t scare me, Mervil. Don’t even try.” Her voice was laden with disbelief at what she had done. How could she have been so heartless? Just because Mervil was this… thing, he was at some point, a human being. The Wanderer merely shrugged this off and stormed toward her, not taking the time to avoid knocking her away. “I’m sorry…” Her whisper was lost to the waves. Mervil disappeared into his cabin.  
  
They all stood quietly at different places across the deck, save for Railin who was making sure they followed the right course. Allanon was playing with his jewellery as usual; Galysses seemed nearly bored as he popped his jaw in and out. Tap had lost all her rage at the sudden turn of exchange between the Wanderer and Naomi, lost once again in a fog of curiosity revolving around the cloaked man. Yazstromo appeared to be sleeping, a wry smile across his face signifying he had heard every word and somehow had drawn humour through it. Kaz sat shocked over the whole thing.  
  
“What…happened to him?” The Innocent drew in close to a dazed looking Naomi, her eyes boring hard into the boards under her feet. “Why has been acting so much darker, hateful?”  
  
“Mervil is not someone meant to be understood; I learned that a long time ago. I think it would be best if you just leave him alone the rest of the way to land. That goes for all of you.” She surveyed the milling crowd that had nicely started to disperse to continue their duties. That is, their duties of nearly absolutely nothing.  
  
“Oh what a bother, make Death mad and then let him go and sulk in his room?” Yazstromo hopped up, another of Naomi’s decorative forks clattered into the hole left by Galysses. She glared at his snitching and he only shrugged in return. “We can’t have that; can’t you say you’re sorry for Gods knows what that ticked the poor fellow off? Or can we all just sit here and watch you squirm with unfounded guilt?”  
  
“He doesn’t need any consolation.” The Innocent’s face was grave with what almost seemed an undying hatred for the Wanderer. “I could care less what happens to him if all he sees in the world is darkness. If all he does is judge people unfairly. We all make mistakes.”  
  
“But the world is darkness, little girl.” Allanon had appeared by her side, looking down with earnest lightly coloured eyes. “Mervil is the only one who is able to see through it all and his heart reflects just what he has had to live with all his life. I think it unfair that you hate a man who knows nothing but how to hate and how to end lives in a gruelling and a believably just way. If you knew, if all of you had any idea of what has gone on in his life, I find Mervil to be the most compassionate man I have ever met.”  
  
Galysses laughed heartily behind them, Kaz joined in reluctantly still perched above Mervil’s cabin. Thinking it smart, he removed himself from the roof and made long strides away from the closed door. “You truly are a nut, aren’t you?” The Stalfos smiled his permanent grin and cocked his head to the side. Allanon waved his hand in the air like nothing had happened and whispered something inaudible to even Tap. She could swear it was something like ‘you’ll see’, but couldn’t be certain.  
  
“Get back to work!” Naomi’s voice broke through the laughter and awkward air, sounding almost strained with a tired and ageless rage. “If I hear any of you talk about him between now and tomorrow morning I’ll make you swim back to land. Now how would you like that?” The Rito leapt back onto the command, pointing up at the Crow’s Nest for Railin to attend to. They kept to her word, making sure to speak in whispers and in dark corners. Mervil could hear it all.  
  
*  
  
They had somehow made incredible speed. It was the very same evening that they found themselves watching a dark form approach from the horizon. Land, Crandall, Arivis, death; they all waited for them there. Railin had spotted it from his lookout, calling down to Naomi to turn slightly to the portside. They would make final arrangements for Galysses to pull the Master Sword and bring an end to the games Arivis had been playing with them from the start.  
  
“Such a cowardly super powered Demon he is.” Yazstromo lolled his head toward Railin, he had decided to join the bandit up in the Crow’s Nest rather than do any of his dishes duty. Soon he would have pocketed every one of those beautiful utensils, what use would they make the Rito anyway? But then he had to ask that of himself, if they were all dead no number of pretty forks would do him any good. Now if the afterlife granted them their worldly possessions…  
  
“Well, maybe he is. But why would he run away just for the sake of protecting himself?” The bandit eyed the land cautiously; he had been told what Mervil had on his mind for three of their members. Despite not being the most incredible comrades to the Wanderer, Railin still felt that they all shared a debt to them. Even though he had granted them permission to tag along, he still couldn’t help but think that maybe they would be forced to go. “Why did Naomi jump down his throat like that?”  
  
“You mean the comment about compassion?” Looking back down the scaffolding, Yazstromo checked to make sure there were no unwanted eavesdroppers. The black hole of Mervil’s cabin glowered up at them. “I’m not really sure; I’m a bit more than a fuzzy about the whole Death and Rito thing that’s going on here. Ever since they crossed paths our depressed friend has seemed to be on more of a cold and dark edge than usual.”  
  
Railin’s eyes darted to his passenger. “You’ve also changed ever since we were separated. You’ve seem to have grown a bit more…reserved.”  
  
“Ha! If you would have been through what we’ve had to deal with you’d understand exactly why. Perhaps it’s you that have changed, I noticed you and the bonehead have established a bit of a friendship.” The Scholar shifted uncomfortably against the wooden boards beneath him, _The Lady Chieftain_ certainly wasn’t built for comfort, not a plush seat in sight. “But you know, that’s your business as it is mine to not bother with explaining my reticent persona as of late. Now can’t we get back to butting into Death’s affairs?”  
  
They shared a laugh, something they hadn’t done since travelling to Kakariko Village all those weeks ago. Had it really only been a few weeks? It felt like an eternity at some points, and then at others it was like the King had met his grisly fate just hours prior. To live in a limbo of surrealism ate away at the bandit, but it couldn’t be helped.  
  
“I overheard the lady and Mervil chatting a week and few days ago by the firelight. Now I won’t be the first to bring up that I think there might have been a bit of a past beyond being soldiers between the two.” He smiled mockingly at nothing in particular; he knew the Wanderer was below absorbing every word they had for him. “But they were speaking of someone else, like a third party from back in the past. When Naomi told him he had no compassion, I too thought she was wrong, no matter what anyone says about Allanon, he’s smarter then we all give him credit for. You have to remember, he may have said you three were useless now but at the same time leaving you behind would put you all out of danger.”  
  
“And in a sense, to become less of a future problem for things to come.” Allanon was hanging against some of the ropes a few feet below them, abruptly joining into the conversation. The bandit jumped and nearly fell from his perch, being steadied by a weak handle.  
  
“Yes, that too.” Railin noticed the Scholar’s face melt into an indiscernible emotion, like he was trying to think of something as he spoke. “Ever since we met I have been getting the most peculiar feeling that we have met before, Allanon…”  
  
“Maybe we have, I have lived a very long time and from what I heard so have you.” His musical voice carried over the waves; he too gazed out along the sunset coloured ocean at the slab of land they were headed for. Maybe they would even land back at the port they had started from.  
  
“That’s what they tell me.”  
  
A fit of coughing rose up from the decks below, it sounded like Tap. Over the last few hours she absolutely refused to talk to anyone, her feelings had been battered by Mervil’s speech to almost disrepair. Kaz followed her like a lost puppy. A lost and pitiful dog. Naomi had also been much more blunt than usual, preferring no one to be within a certain radius or be threatened to be keeled as soon as she found rope.  
  
“Oh yes, Railin.” Yazstromo returned his focus to his bandit accomplice, out of the corner of his eye he watched Allanon leap silently down onto the cabins below. “I’m not sure if you can tell yet or not, but your poor bandit friend seems to have developed a bit of a… well, I can’t be certain as to what to call it really. I just know that if he doesn’t stop living and breathing all over that Innocent we might have a bit of an ordeal at hand.”  
  
“It’s really obvious. I’ve been back with you guys for only about a week and I’ve never seen Tap without seeing him close behind.”  
  
“Sad, isn’t it?” The Scholar rose from his seat and began to climb down the ladder, showing that despite being however old he happened to be, he was as chipper as a youth. “I’m pretty sure you can handle yourself up here, I have someone to talk to. And if the ungrateful utensil hog wants to feed me to some sharks because of it, I hope they like me old and tough.”  
  
Cold winds careened around him, he held himself straight through his wobble on the unbalanced deck. Yazstromo walked calmly past the command and gave half a nod to the frayed looking Naomi before diving into the shadows of the lower stern. The Wanderer’s door had been shut all day ever since the three way argument had ended abruptly. No one had seemed brave enough to go against the apparently self acclaimed leader’s orders, or maybe it was they feared just what state Mervil had fallen into.  
  
Yazstromo amused himself by picturing Galysses being the fool to walk up and batter in on Death’s quarters and being blasted to a million bits. He had to stifle the laugh as he recalled the story Railin provided about their time spent in the Lost Woods. Surely the Wanderer wasn’t nearly that distressed by mere words. “Sticks and stones…” The Scholar pushed open the door surprised to be met with dim candle light from across the room.  
Mervil sat in an old wooden chair, hunched over with his book in his hands. Reading, not even leafing through the pages like he always had done before when he was about to spring up and kill something to death; it brought a smile to Yazstromo’s face.  
  
“Well it seems you _can_ read, Mervil. It comes as a pleasant surprise.” The Scholar closed the plank door behind him and walked up to the cot that had served as Mervil’s prison for almost a week. “Though, with you being… as many years old as you happen to be, I would have thought you would have been able to read that thing from front to back.”  
“There are stories in here, things in this book you can’t even begin to imagine.” A cracked voice carried over the short distance yet the hooded figure didn’t look up from the page he was on.  
  
“Oh, so there are some scary things in there then. I never would have guessed.” Yazstromo chuckled, quietly fingering one of the newest knives he had grabbed from the drawers down in the kitchen. “I heard a story once, about a little girl all in red. She was going to her grandmother’s house to help her feed her cuckoos before they decided to revolt in a most violent way. But suddenly a giant Dodongo sprang out and ate her on the woods path. It was dreadful.  
  
It was at this that Yazstromo could have sworn a flicker of a smile, a smirk, at least something other than a fierce scowl or standard frown, cross his host’s face. As soon as it was there it had disappeared into the dark shadow of Mervil’s face.  
  
“I’m reading to quell my utter boredom and to ensure that I haven’t missed anything in the Legend.”  
  
“Oh? Are you telling me that you really do have a copy of it, can I see?” The Scholar made short time of the distance between the two, actually towering over the seated man when at his side. “I have always speculated that the Wanderer would carry an actual written record of each and every line to follow. This probably even is the very first copy!” He reached out for the book for a better look but Mervil shut it quickly, looking up with a hard and solemn face.  
  
“I carry a fear, Scholar. Well, a fear may not be the right statement. After looking through this tome hundreds of times I am still uncertain as to whether we need to find every member.” Mervil looked away quietly at the hole in his ceiling; the sunset was growing stronger outside, dominating the sky. “Or even if I have found the right people.”  
  
Yazstromo opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as a wing darted in from the book shaped gap. Sighing, he slowly made his way across the room to hide behind one of the cots. This would be extremely delicious if a talk ensued about this…girl they seemed so sombre about.  
  
“You’ll need to start getting ready, Death.” Naomi’s voice sounded dull and inhibited by something that had to be sleep. “Land will be back under our feet in a matter of minutes and if you want a protected camp, we need to make it back to Crandall Castle before night.” Yazstromo held back a disappointed grunt at the frank statements being shared.  
  
“That’s workable.”  
  
At the sound of his voice, the captain pulled her wing back up with an utterance of ‘have to fix that gash sometime’. Yazstromo popped back up from the corner with a heavy grimace at the lack of talking, but he couldn’t blame them really, whatever in hell set him off earlier was enough to keep them from spending any time with each other. Which happened to be quite a bit, something else he would note in the column that at one time they shared some sort of relations in a past life gone by.  
  
“Wonderful!” Allanon’s form suddenly burst out from the other cot, nearly sending Yazstromo into an early grave, cursing loudly in surprise. It seemed the Scholar wasn’t the only brave soul on the _The Lady Chieftain_ after all. “Once we make it to the Courtyard, Galysses can pull the Master Sword and put an end to the Demon.”  
  
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Mervil snuffed out the candle to his side and traced his finger down the spine of his book before placing it back into its secret pocket. “Something isn’t sitting right with me; it hasn’t ever since you showed up, Allanon. We can’t be certain of anything any more, no matter what thousands of years old words tell us. For all we know the Warrior isn’t even with us.”  
  
The Wanderer directed them to the door and opened it to the brisk air. High above the sky was bruised a deep purple, stars began to peer through at the farthest reaches of the east. To the west it seemed like the sunset was taking an eternity to finish, like it was mournfully watching and letting these travellers see it one last time. Blood red coloured sky shot out from all sides of the deep orange disk at the world’s edge. The hills grew larger as they approached the wrecked port town of Alvz, the rotten piers groped the water’s edge.  
  
Slowly _The Lady Chieftain_ splintered through the darkening water and thudded closely against the crumbling cobblestones of the once busy street. Galysses was the first to return to land, crashing hard against the water edge, sending a spray of dust and stone into the air. He helped Kaz and Railin off, subsequently embarrassing them but they felt like they had no choice for there were no ladders to climb down from the decks from. Mervil followed, keeping a distance away from the two bandits but nodding at Galysses.  
  
Tap appeared, gazing down at the churning waters and questioning just how she would make it down. She watched Mervil hesitate for a moment and then stretch his hand up to her, but she just snubbed him, looking up at nothing in particular. Jumping would work, that would show him that she was much better then needing to be helped down from a simple boat. Pushing her hair behind her ears she heaved herself up to the railing and leapt, realizing the moment she was airborne that she wasn’t going to make it.  
  
The Wanderer sprang forward, catching the Innocent in his arms before she could fall into the tiding waters. Her hat fell onto the dusty ground and her sunken stomach returned back to normal. Gaining a level head she remembered what had happened, immediately feeling her skin crawl in the position she found herself.  
  
“Put me down.” Tap’s voice was sharp and demanding, the iron grip she found herself in released her, unceremoniously dropping her hard on the ground. Fuming, she picked up her hat and beat it against her cloak, watching in envy as Naomi dove silently ahead of the group. “So, what are we doing, moving, staying or being useless?” She emphasized this last part, glaring up at a quiet Mervil.  
  
“We move for the Castle while it’s still light.” The Rito walked slowly toward the town edge, keeping very reserved and not bothering to take in the sights. “Arivis will try to start something if we aren’t under the roof of somewhere safe. Anyone who’s against that can suck it up.”  
  
No one refused the plan, all milling together and beginning to walk westward with no real initiative. A bizarre air fell and absorbed all their thoughts. The stony fields of the long dead Kingdom began to spread out in their wake, climbing higher and higher they would be upon the Castle by nightfall.  
  
“Something isn’t right…” Mervil slowly finished one last stride, being left behind for two before his comrades reacted. “I swear that the sun should have set by now. It’s taking too long, it’s too…”  
  
“Oh no.” The Innocent’s face turned pale, remembering the Autumn Festival when Arivis first attacked Hyrule. He had managed to turn everything to daylight with no problem. The Demon was here, was somewhere, waiting. No one had to wait to realize what was going on, each taking off as fast as they could.  
  
“We have to make it to the Castle; the spell surrounding it will be enough to hold him off!” Feeling the ground beneath him nearly leave with ever move, Mervil’s sinking feeling grew worse. It grew almost into a biting fear. They didn’t come this far just to be finished at the doorstep of victory! And it was now that the Demon confirmed their fright, somewhere on the sidelines he had given an order, each and ever stone was overturned, the grey cloaks of Numen spilling out from the shadows.  
  
The bloody light shone through their near transparent forms, the glass weapons either being brandished or raised.  
“I’ll handle this.” Allanon swung forward from the main group and threw his arms wide, sending all of the Numen into the air all crushing into a singularity before them. The Warrior’s mouth dropped in awe at the show and had to slice his way through a half dozen foes to continue on the same path.  
  
Naomi nodded to her only female teammate and took to the skies, grabbing Tap by the shoulders. Soaring into the air she wielded her bow and began to pick off as many souls as she could. They all fell back except for Mervil who seemed more interested in running away, or more correctly, running _to_ their destination. The Scholar removed three of his shiniest spoons and uttered a few words into their curving figures, watching each rocket into the air and shatter into several glittering pieces.  
  
With a spectacular display every shard stopped short of twenty feet, spinning back the way they came and fell upon the battlefield. Any that hit the likes of the legendary collection merely bounced off of their skin or clothes, but the rest punctured dozens of the enemy subsequently exploding sending clouds of dust into the air. He hoped this lot didn’t make a repeat of those around the Bronze Construct; he had to clean out his clothes of sand for days.  
  
“Don’t bother with them, they’ll just keep coming!” Naomi called down from the darkening sky, weaving in and out of headless arrows, nearly being struck by a shaft that had been knocked off course by one of the spoon shards. Throwing Tap into the air and having her land back on her wings, she dove for the bandits who seemed a little over their heads with small daggers and rocks for shields. Surely they weighed less than one Galysses… Shrieking in surprise, Railin and Kaz especially blushed a deep rose, being carried off for the misshapen shadow on the horizon.  
  
Allanon suddenly disappeared from the battlefield, sinking into the dark ground. But soon several of the lighter coloured Numen were dragged away into darkness, Galysses met the same fate. Being left alone, Yazstromo began to see the urgency to ditch his attempts and save his utensil stock. The Scholar began to run as fast as his old legs could carry him, watching as the crowd of Numen were getting farther and farther away. Suddenly he too disappeared, being dragged under by Allanon. Kaz burst out a laugh from high above as he watched Yazstromo’s long beard spire out of the soil for a split second before being taken.  
  
“Hold on!” Naomi lowered her altitude suddenly, making the bandit’s stomachs flutter sickeningly. Crandall Castle’s hulking walls were nearby, she watched as Mervil disappeared into the courtyard. Nearly blinded by the point of light on the horizon shining through the withered building, the Rito landed as close as she could to the back entrance, making a running stop. Railin and Kaz were thrown to either side, having to fend for themselves against the sharp rocks and loose soil that spread around them.  
  
Mervil ushered them inside the darkening area, not caring to be careful of crushing the different overgrown fauna all around the courtyard. More Numen rose from the stones outside, at the same point the dark cloak of Allanon burst from the ground just outside the rising walls. Galysses lurched inside, landing hard against the earth, tall grass rising out from around his bones.  
  
“Never do that again!” The Scholar was hunched over more than usual holding his head in his hands, nearly tripping over the fallen Warrior who merely grunted in discontent. “Although, it does have its charms.” His voice sounded like he were ready to retch, but having an empty gut spared the ancient gardens of that pleasure.  
  
The Numen were speeding up the slopes, gathering into a large circle many beings thick. Allanon fixed his cloak and walked back outside only to be grabbed by his familiar garbed comrade.  
  
“You don’t have to do anything, let them come.” Mervil’s face turned from grave to excited, almost yearning for the onslaught of the odd creatures. It was the first time any of them saw a smile cross Death’s face, a glitter in his eye, making him more menacing than welcoming in the red coloured light. More stars came into view, was this only just another test by Arivis, to see what kind of shape they were in? The Wanderer despite all the adrenaline, felt weaker now then he had for hundreds of years. He hoped that this was just a game.  
  
The Numen began to leap toward them, immediately being incinerated by a gleaming light. Another spell. “Like I said, I have had a lot of time on my hands to make sure this place was never defiled.” Again and again they mindless tried to break through the shield; perhaps this was only a way to exhaust an older class, a less powerful kind of Numen. Who knew what Arivis could have been up to the entire time they were crawling around a dead Crandall?  
  
At last the screaming stopped and the spirits stopped the suicide attitude. They looked among each other, turning away in the direction of Hyrule and sighing away into the night. Marching away, the army of Numen appeared like a funeral procession in the dimming light, dressing their cloaks in dusk. Winds picked up and blew the remains of the short fight across the entire field.  
  
“Well, that was easy.” Galysses picked himself up, yanking grasses and flowers out from his skeleton while still fighting back nausea.  
  
“Oh, don’t do that, the flowers match your eyes so well.” The Scholar looked up from his keeled over state, trying to force a smile and being partly successful. Despite the threat being gone, as it seemed, everyone was on edge, breathing heavily and staring out into space waiting for something new to occur.  
  
“I’m not sure if you realize…” Mervil pointed up to the small circular orchard, the heavy darkness of night was granted permission. The damned Arivis was really just wasting all their time, making them fret over nothing. “We will bring the fight to you next.” He whispered the threat out of earshot, being appalled by how campy the group had gotten despite of an almost overbearing threat. “But we have been doing all of this just to bring you here, Warrior. To pull the Sword, to finish this war like you have been destined to.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose we shan’t have any more of this _fun_ or relaxing business then.” Yazstromo’s mocking tone was weakened as he stumbled about; Allanon seemed very amused by his reaction. “To think if you actually had something in that skull of yours we could have been doing this, say, I have no idea how many days it’s been… But yes, that number of days ago.”  
  
“Whatever you say. Let’s get on with it.” Galysses hobbled forward, being caught by Allanon who told him ‘good luck’ as he approached the grove. Holding his head with one hand to regain his stability, the Stalfos could feel a new relief wash over his body. He was going to be the one to put an end to this strife, him, a relatively unknown name in his brethren. A feeling of strength overcame him, all he had to do was pull the sword from the pedestal and the world would be safe.  
  
The sun was nearly blinding despite it getting so close to night. Mervil’s extra spell over the entire installation shimmered with the new hope. Stepping into the semicircle of trees, a new breeze began to blow, pulling with it the hints of winter weather. The edge of crisp air was refreshing compared to the ever salty smell of the seas.  
  
“This is what I’ve been born to do?” The Stalfos turned at the top of the cracked stone, looking away from the vine covered blade to look at the shadow of Mervil’s face.  
  
“No, this is what you are meant to do, right now. This is only what fate wants of you, Warrior.”  
  
Galysses shook his head, trying to remove the euphoria he now felt at this sacred position. The Master Sword was the ultimate weapon and it wanted him as its wielder, it _needed_ him to control its power. Placing his boney hand on the aged hilt, a hint of strength pressed back on him. Smiling he closed his fist and pulled. It didn’t budge.  
“Just how long has this thing been here?” Pulling harder this time there wasn’t a change in position, save for the breaking of a few plants around the blade’s entry point. “Feels like a long time to me. I haven’t been risking my life just to be stopped by rust or whatever the hell is keeping this in the ground.”  
  
“Should that happen?” Yazstromo hobbled forward, stroking his long beard and lazily looking between the Wanderer and the confused Warrior.  
  
“That sword hasn’t been drawn for centuries; it makes sense that the magic binding it has been corroded.” Mervil sat smartly on a nearby stone, putting his head in his hands. “Without me caring for the seal all these years… I can’t believe…”  
  
Without a sound the sun seemed to burst with a new intensity from the West, sending a shockwave of light into the courtyard. The glowing sphere on the horizon shot out in all directions slamming against the large shield, shattering the spell immediately. A lone shadow dropped from the shining daylight, smashing through the secondary spell around the home-grown Master Sword chamber. The trees buckled and splintered out in yawning circles, cracking against the already weakened walls. Pressure chasms exploded out from the stone pedestal from the brute force of the hit, taking on a web like pattern. Flowers scattered into the air and were turned to ash.  
  
Arivis stood on one leg on the Sword hilt, a shadow against the backdrop of white light, his eyes glowing a deep red. In one quick motion he pulled back his right arm and bashed it across Galysses skull, knocking the Stalfos far out into the stunned crowd. Blustering heat washed over them, heavy enough to start small patches of fire throughout the grassy ruins.  
  
“Heh, I feel like an apology is in order.” The Demon appeared to have altered his style, choosing something completely different then his original knight garb. In his left hand the Staff of Suns pulsed orange light, casting over through the darkness of the true sunset, illuminating his dark face. Red eyes sunk into his skull, a slash of a mouth opened in a jagged line, making him seem more like a jack-o-lantern than a Demon. Either way, it was far more menacing than anything they had seen up until this point. “I didn’t mean to cause any arson, forgive me.”  
  
Arivis laughed, a booming and slightly distorted voice shrieked out into the sky. Leaping down from his perch, the Demon walked down the torn steps of the pedestal, stopping by the final two singed tree trunks. “Seems I was right in waiting for you after all. I had hoped you wouldn’t need a pity from me when my Numen Cloud destroyed you. And here you are, in my clutches again. Amusing.”  
  
“How dare you!” Mervil’s mood dropped from excitement to a storm of anger, pushing himself up from his seat but keeping a certain distance from the enemy. “How dare you taint these grounds, you bastard?!” It seemed for a moment that the overbearing heat was swallowed by an even stronger chill, but it was soon quelled.  
  
“As moody as always, Mervil.” The tone behind the Demon’s voice was mocking and condescending, laced with vehemence. “I felt I would check up on you lot, make sure you didn’t do anything rash.” Arivis pointed behind him at the shining blade still rising proudly into the ash filled air. “Following the legend so blindly… I almost feel sorry for the freaks you’ve lived your life searching for.”  
  
“What do you want?” Kaz’s voice trembled despite his attempt to hide his fear, standing in front of Tap protectively. She threw him a dark look that he didn’t notice. “You tried to fight us before and lost, what makes it any different now?” In a flat tone he trailed off, the last word almost inaudible.  
  
Random bursts of laughter filled the darkness this time, both from Arivis and Mervil. “You really expected me to waste my time, to stop having my fun back in the desert? How naïve. And what are you supposed to be, little boy, the hormone induced pig who could very well jump on that poor girl behind you if you had the chance? I can feel your heart pumping with bravery and desire all the way over here!”  
  
Kaz’s face turned a bright red, clearly visible in the dimming light. His bandit friend shied away toward a statue, not completely used to the powerful presence of something as grand as the Demon before him.  
  
“Besides your strange idea that that little Blade could save you from fate…” Arivis’s face turned from solemn to a wicked smile, spreading from cheek to cheek, showing that he had less of a mouth then first expected. A bright white opening was all that seemed to exist between the jagged outline of his lips. “I’ve arrived in time to take what is rightfully mine. Something that I decided to let you all labour over to collect for me. I’ll grant you all a deal, your lives for the Staff.”  
  
He struck the Staff of Suns into the ground beside him. Opening his hand, Arivis stretched it out in waiting, cocking his head and smiling ever so lightly. “All I require from this visit is that key. I don’t need to mindlessly kill you all for it. But it certainly _would_ be fun. Let me have the Staff and you can all walk freely, as far as you can before I choke all the life out of this pitiful world. Think of it as prolonging the inevitable. No one will ever know that the ‘Legendary Group’ or whatever you have called yourselves, turned to cowards when they’ve all been ground to dust.”  
  
“That isn’t going to happen.” Mervil lifted the dimly lit Staff and passed it from hand to hand, not bothering to look up at their visitor. “I can’t let another Kingdom rot because of you. I won’t allow it.”  
  
“This isn’t negotiable! This isn’t something you can stop. Can’t you feel it; can’t you see how things are different now, how much power I have acquired?” Ripping the orange counterpart from the torn soil, Arivis began to close the gap, watching in delight as his opposition raised their defences. “Stop playing this feeble game with me, I am the master of this combat, I am the one calling the shots. I’ll give you one last chance, hand over the Staff of Moons or I will take it from your corpses.”  
  
No one did anything, the air filled with a current they only knew to be fear, fear of death. Kaz had fallen back from trying to keep a brave posture in front of Tap, joining his bandit friend in a half hiding location. Galysses was still sitting dazed, a burn mark covered in cracks spread out along his face. His eyes were dim, glaring past the Demon and at the Sword he had to pull, he needed to pull.  
  
“This is boring me. If you so wish it to be this way, I have no complaints!” Arivis fired a shot of energy from the Staff of Suns, sending a storm of fire down across the area. Spires of flame rose up, blocking all of the exits with blistering success. “You fight and fight and never know when to stop!” Slashing out at random, he sent wide blasts of energy into the sky and into the ground, blowing apart various parts of the ruins. “I’ll make this place your grave, just like it should have been centuries ago.”  
  
Waving his free hand in a crushing motion, Mervil was the first to experience the brutality of Arivis’s newfound strength. It felt all too familiar. Flying through the air like a ragdoll he was smashed against statue after statue before finally being let go to land hard against the stone he had first sat on.  
  
“Like swatting bothersome flies.” Arivis rose into the air and quickly grouped the members that could walk into a swirling circle of fire. “Let me see what you can really do, don’t disappoint!”  
  
Yazstromo was the first to act, blowing the flames out using an assortment of different spoons. This gave time for Allanon to sink into the shadows and Tap to gain higher altitude thanks to Naomi. The arrangement was starting to become a cliché, a very useful one. But their foe wasn’t as slow as the others they had faced up until this time. Without thinking he seemed to blink out of sight, reappearing directly in her flight path, prying through them at a ridiculous speed. Naomi and Tap met the ground as soon as they had left it.  
  
Arivis threw the Staff of Suns into the air and rocketed straight down to a statue directly beneath him. A blinding light shot out from when he connected with it, shattering the stone immediately, Kaz and Railin were blown back against the far walls. Making an abrupt dust-off, the Demon’s arm changed back to the blade that had beheaded the king those weeks ago. And it was at this that Allanon burst out from behind him and met an untimely event. Arivis swung around, just delayed enough for the Garo to move from the decapitating path, but the blade easily severed every one of his necklaces.  
  
The various stones and metals clattered to the grass. Allanon cursed loudly and tried to pick the few at his feet up, only to be tackled head-on by his foe. In a plume of stone and dust he was crushed into the castle walls with no attempt at freeing himself being successful.  
  
“Oh, please! You’re kidding me right, for a group to hold powers beyond imagination you certainly don’t put up a fight.” Arivis laughed coldly and turned back to where he had left Mervil, only to see the rock vacant with a faint trickle of blood smeared across it. Pivoting, he managed to see the Wanderer at the pedestal, fluidly pulling the Master Sword from its prison. With unimaginable speed, Death shot the blade forward to the now aware Galysses. Nearly being impaled by the Evil’s Bane, the Demon swung out of the way as agile as a dancer, hearing the Warrior catch the weapon meant to slay him. “Now this may be more like it. Show me what your legend has in store for me, Warrior. Cut me down like you have been ‘destined’ to!” Rising high into the air he began to create a circling inferno of flame intended to fall to the courtyard and incinerate every living being. Now was Galysses time to act.  
  
A dagger suddenly was airborne, making up the distance from the ground to the Demon with quick succession. It merely bounced off of the head that was jerking in damning laughter leaving not the slightest wound. All of it happened so fast, it was hard to tell what went on. Arivis pulled his attention back to the ground and fired one short blast from the Staff of Suns. The owner of the knife didn’t have the chance to react; Railin was hit square in the chest, being thrown up against the far wall again and falling limp to the ground. A long trail of blackened and burnt blood splattered against the stone and the grasses below, Kaz’s face curdled into horror.  
  
Galysses watched the bandit’s death wish come true and roared with anguish, running up a fallen and broken obelisk, leaping into the air. He grabbed the Demon by surprise and sent them careening down against the Master Sword pedestal, breaking it up beyond repair by the impact. Arivis threw the Stalfos off of him and stood back up, dusting himself off in time for the enraged Warrior to come back. Leaping over Galysses, Arivis fired the Staff of Suns into his back, sending him crashing into the nearest wall.  
  
“Stop playing around and fight me!” The Warrior’s smile had contorted to a frightening scowl, his jaw shook uncontrollably. “At least fight someone who has a chance at defending himself!” Cracking his back straight again, the Stalfos charged once more at the openly amused Demon. Arivis quickly flung himself over his adversary and placed his foot into his back, pushing Galysses forward and off his feet.  
  
“Just a bag of bones. The Legend wants me to cower in fear at _this_?” Pulling a heaving Galysses off of the ground, Arivis eyed him over and tilted his head in curiosity. “You don’t seem to be making me fear my life; you aren’t sending me back to whence I came. Don’t let the death of a useless little man threaten the entire world. People have made such a foolish choice before.” The Demon pulled back his head and laughed, his queer voice echoing into the dim light. Stars blinked down at them everywhere, as if to observe what very well could be the last moment in all these people’s lives…  
  
“If I was chosen to destroy you, then I will!” Galysses quickly hacked into the air between them with the Master Sword and watched Arivis cringe away at the sight of the blade. It did not sparkle. Pushing himself up and fingering around the cracked section of his skull, everyone could see his eyes shine brighter and brighter as his anger peaked. “I’ve been thrown around this damn kingdom thanks to you; I feel it only necessary to repay you for it!”  
  
Arivis struck a wide circle of flames behind the Warrior and approached slowly. “If you want this to be judged on cunning, I have already won. If you want this to be judged on skill, show me why you’re apparently the bane of my existence!” The blade shaped arm swung out to meet the Master Sword, a shower of sparks and what could very well have been flesh, were thrown between them. It was apparent that Arivis was much faster, moving from foot to foot and able to deflect every swing from the maddened Stalfos.  
  
Without warning, the Demon fell back, rocketing into the air in time to be missed by the explosion of a spinning fork. Yazstromo leapt through the flames to join in the cause, nodding at Galysses who looked ready to explode, to throw a tantrum that even he didn’t want to be in the wake of.  
  
“Ah the old man, I knew I was forgetting to take care of one of you. I mean there are so few of you that act only as petty distractions.” Arivis landed back down between the two of them, holding in his glee, his face in a crooked smile. “I’ll try not to break a hip, last I recall I’m supposed to be revenged upon.” With the same force that had put Mervil out of commission at the beginning, Yazstromo was succumbed to, being thrown out into the vicinity of a frayed looking Kaz. Railin was gone; a black gash glaring up into the night sky was singed through his body.  
  
Galysses was upon him, making more noise than any of them had heard throughout the evening, even more splitting than the scream of demise from the Numen. With all the force he could muster, the Warrior pounded the Master Sword over and over across Arivis’s defences, knocking him farther back to the grove with every strike. The Demon tripped over one of the ruined stones and watched the world fall around him, the glint of the Evil’s Bane racing to meet his skull.  
  
“The game is over.” Arivis pulled his legs in and thrust them upward, cracking into the Warrior’s head, knocking him off balance and away from his prey. Sliding forward he compounded another fracture into Galysses’ skull, pushing him further away. With the Demon’s third attempt, the Stalfos lifted the Master Sword in defence and watched as Arivis’s hand came to a dead stop upon its steel. A look of disgust crossed the dark face but it soon was overcome with one of pure mirth. “You’re no Hero. You’re worthless.”  
  
The Demon wrenched the Master Sword free and slammed his free hand into Galysses’ sternum, watching it buckle in and break all of his ribs. Falling, Galysses gasped for air, shaking with fury and a vengeance he now knew never to be fulfilled. “Words as old as dust…” The words of the Demon filled his head after this, making the pain of it all multiply tenfold. Galysses looked up into the glowing red eyes of Arivis, watching them calculate at holding the dull Master Sword and at the crippled foe at his feet.  
  
Mervil watched the Staff of Suns materialize into the hand of the Demon, finally realizing that the Warrior was not going to be able to stop him. But now it was too late to stop the inevitable. The glowing orb was set between Galysses’ eyes and discharged. A plume of smoke and a sound of snapping bone filled the air. In the darkness they all watched in horror as the Warrior’s body fell into disarray through the burning long grass.  
  
There seemed to be a long moment of silence. The Warrior lay dead at the creature’s feet he was meant to destroy, and that creature now held the Master Sword meant to cut him down. It seemed that Galysses’ fate was sealed by his hard-headedness, his willingness to attack first, to mindlessly enter the fray. For all intents and purposes the world was at a standstill, for everyone in the courtyard looking upon the power Arivis possessed.  
  
“So, is that all? Am I to expect that I demolished the word of, well, no one really? A tale spun by the tired minds of old men from centuries gone by. The Warrior is dead, the legend lives as a Fallacy.”  
  
“No!” Before Arivis could react he witnessed the Master Sword yanked straight from his grasp and neatly hacked into his chest twice. Leaping back, the Demon avoided the finishing blow. Allanon stood before him, glaring with wild and crazed eyes, a thin trickle of oddly coloured blood dripping down his hands. “The Legend is law! The Legend will come true, the Warrior cannot be dead! Galysses?! This can’t be true!”  
  
Allanon recklessly and shakily raised the Evil’s Bane and darted to finish what Galysses had tried to. Spinning the Staff of Suns in his palm, Arivis closed in on the remainder and quickly belted the Garo with the butt of his weapon. Swinging in a complete circle he bashed the other end across his face, watching the Master Sword clatter down across the ruined stones of its pedestal.  
  
“Enough with this!” Arivis closed his fists around the fallen Garo and raised him to show the rest of the group. It seemed things were taking just a tad too long for his liking. “You want to keep delaying the inevitable! I offered you the chance to turn around and avoid something as drastic as this from happening, but no, you decide to stay. You decide to stay to watch things like this happen.” The Demon dropped the Staff of Suns and reformed his arm into the familiar blade. In a silent jerk he split it into Allanon’s chest and twisted malevolently. In a disturbing motion he ripped through the flailing and demented Garo with protests still denying Galysses’ demise.  
  
The Demon cried out angrily, cutting completely across the man in his grasp until he was returned to the ground in two pieces. “Enough! Give me the Staff of Moons and I’ll think about making your deaths quick, at least I have been so kind to these three. The bandit, the Warrior, and this bastard!” Blood and flesh were neatly flicked away at the spinning of a wrist and Arivis returned his arm to normal. Picking at the Staff of Suns nervously, he waited for anyone else to act.  
Mervil stood in shock, eyes wide at the destruction around him, at the complete defiance of what he had been trying to accomplish all these years. This couldn’t be it; this wouldn’t be his last stand. No one else was going to die. Arivis was his enemy, none of theirs. He may not owe these people anything, but he still had something to avenge. Striking his scythe to life, the Wanderer made eye contact with Arivis and began to stride forward.  
  
But it wasn’t him he was looking at. The Scholar was off to his left, dozens of utensils floating about him, his long hair being blown in the wind, giving him a godly appearance. Yazstromo looked up and smiled at the puzzled face of the Demon, sending the charged spell towards him at shocking speed. A massive shockwave raced out when it hit its target, blowing the fire from Mervil’s weapon and the newly standing Naomi and Tap from their feet.  
  
“Surprise!” Yazstromo ran forward, reaching down midstride to pick up the Master Sword. Pulling it back he slid into the dust cloud where Arivis stood hunched over trying to regain his senses. The steel bit into him three times and yet again missed at the chance for a critical blow. “Just like a ballerina, except I think you’re a bit too ugly.”  
  
Arivis flew back against the obelisk Galysses had used to gain air and raised his hands in what seemed a pathetic defence. The Scholar laughed at it for a moment and sped forward, only to have his mood crushed. Bright blue lightning shot out from the Demon’s hands and connected with the Master Sword, resulting in a shining beacon of light to fire out into the sky. Yazstromo gritted his teeth and tried to push forward but was firmly planted by the force Arivis was exhibiting. It was enough to destroy their last hopes.  
  
A screaming noise filled the air as blue cracks raced along the blade of the Master Sword. Suddenly the lightning stopped and the blade seemed to glow with a new power for a brief moment before it shattered into a thousand pieces, knocking the Scholar onto his rear. Charged metal flew through the air and fell like a beautiful sapphire rain.  
  
“Well… that’s not healthy…” Yazstromo stood back up painfully, holding his backside and still smiling.  
  
“Senile old man… Let me help you cross this bustling street to the afterlife. No one will notice another dead man.” Arivis raised the Staff of Suns from his side and smiled. “Ah, I so enjoy the attempts to make someone’s last heard word their favourite, but I can’t spare you the delight.”  
  
“No!” Naomi watched as another comrade received the sharp end of the Demon’s wrath. The shadow of Mervil had flown as if from nowhere between the flaming blast and the ducking frame of Yazstromo. The bright flash ended as soon as it had made contact with the Wanderer, she watched as Mervil’s body crumpled into a heap as heat pulsated from the centre of the court.  
  
Arivis’s shocked face suddenly changed to complete satisfaction. Dropping his staff he walked forward to see that the force of the blast had knocked Yazstromo out cold, but Mervil was still conscious, holding his shaking hands around the hole in the right side of his chest. The Demon rammed his foot into the Wanderer’s hands, breaking them on impact.  
  
“It seems you do have one ounce of a heart left in this old case.” The Demon reached down and removed the Staff of Moons from the barely breathing man before him. “They’ve all done their job, you’re finally out of my way, now I can go worry free that you lot will put an end to this foolish fixture. Mervil, it seems fitting in some way that the last Crandallian sacrifices himself in the dead ruins of his kingdom’s Castle. For the only man or beast to defeat me… I grant you this permission, to be drained and die in the arms of your home…” Arivis ended his solemn speech and smiled down at the glowing staff in his hand. Retrieving its twin, the Demon disappeared into the night, his laugh carrying down through the wrecked corridors around them.  
  
“Mervil, no!” The Rito ignored her broken wing and ran as fast as she could through the tangled overgrowth. Naomi fell to her knees and had to look away at first from the blood pouring out around her, staining her clothes and already soaking through Yazstromo’s. She neatly moved his hands away and choked on her breath at the ghastly sight of his wound.  
  
“I…” He coughed, spewing blood across her dressings but she ignored it, placing her hand on his head. “I had to…”  
  
“Don’t talk, save your energy, please! Tap, where are you?” She turned around and scanned the darkness, the courtyard barely lit by the smouldering fires around them. Kaz was at the end, huddled over his friend, silent in mourning. And there she was, the Innocent leaning against the obelisk where Arivis had stood moments ago. “Get over here!”  
  
“Why should I?”  
  
“You can help him, you can heal him!” Naomi couldn’t think clearly, the Innocent’s apparent defiance confused her more than she wished to be. “Your powers are more refined than mine. _You have to._”  
  
“I don’t understand why he deserves my help!” She lunged forward angrily, her sweat smeared brow furrowed high. “He wouldn’t do it for me, he doesn’t deserve it! All he’s done with his life is kill, kill, kill! Either way, I can only heal people with a pure heart, and the bastard he is… It just won’t work.”  
  
“You’re kidding me, did you see what he did! He… he did this to save Yazstromo. He did this to protect one of us, all of us…”  
  
Tap said nothing, standing tall over the Rito and the shivering reduced form of the all powerful Death. A pity, she had never guessed that Death could die… Naomi was right; he did this for the Scholar. He did this for all of them. She flustered with a mix of anger and compassion, dropping down beside her female comrade who immediately broke her angry look into a grateful one. Tap looked down into the bright blue eyes of Mervil; they stared back, as if reading her mind, looking into her soul.  
  
The Innocent placed her hands on his broken ones and closed her eyes. Silence ensued, deafening and absolute. Nothing happened.


	26. Section 6.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Yazstromo
> 
> Original note:  
Hey paisanos, it's the Super Forever Forgotten Super-Late Post!

The courtyard was still, nobody daring to make a sound. The moment seemed to stretch on eternally, painfully. And then, as all hope began to dwindle...a flutter of light began around Tap’s hands. Sparks of blue energy wormed out from between her clasped fingers, working their way into the scorched crater in his chest. Slowly, the wound began to close, the light working its magic around the mangled flesh. Ribs were fused together, blood vessels were sealed tight, and finally, the skin closed, stitched together by the healing energy. Mervil gasped, his blood pumping with a newfound strength, lungs taking in fresh air. His eyes cleared, meeting his saviour’s for an instant, before finding their way to the grateful joy found in Naomi’s.  
  
Before Mervil could speak, a hopeful shout came from the far side of the courtyard, as Kaz witnessed the miracle. “Tap...what about Railin?” The Innocent hurried over to the bandit’s side, leaving her patient with the Rito captain, and quickly placed her hands on Railin’s chest. A strained look played across her face for several seconds, and when her eyes opened, a tear slid down her cheek.  
  
“Kaz, I-I’m sorry...but, he’s too far gone. There’s...nothing I can do...” Tap stood up, resting her hand on the grieving man’s shoulder, before checking on the other victims to see that Galysses and Allanon had also fallen before the reaper’s grim scythe.  
  
Eventually, Mervil spoke up over the deafening silence, answering the question that was on everyone’s mind. “It seems that the Prophecy has gone unfulfilled. Our Warrior...Galysses, is dead. The Master Sword is shattered. The Demon has both Staffs.” His fists clenched. “I’ve failed. I’ve failed all of us. Everyone.” Tears sprang into his eyes, filled with anger and regret. Memories of a fallen kingdom flashed through Mervil’s mind; now, the same would happen to Hyrule. Before he could continue contemplating the end of Hyrule, someone cleared their throat.  
  
“Actually, the Prophecy is going exactly as planned...in that it’s gone completely to pot, I suppose.” Everyone turned, to see Yazstromo sitting there, smoothing his beard. Oddly, he didn’t seem to be in his usual half-daze; now, there was a deliberate feel to his demeanour, his back straight, his eyes focused. “Of course, you may not have realised that, but you’ll soon understand.”  
  
Tap scowled, puzzled. “But, I remember you saying that you’d never even heard of the Prophecy, let alone read it before.” Yazstromo smiled back at her, nodding his head calmly.  
  
“Exactly, which begs the question...” He turned to look at Mervil. “For how long have you realised that I’m the Prophet? Or an incarnation of the Prophet, I suppose. Because I had no idea until about 5 minutes ago.”  
  
Mervil gazed back, guilty satisfaction mingling with the despair. “Shortly after Allanon showed up and declared himself the Prophet. Though I’d had my suspicions a bit earlier than that.” He sighed. “But what does it matter who the Prophet is. The point is, we’ve failed.”  
  
The old man chuckled. “On the contrary, Mervil. The prophecy is running smoothly. It just appears to be suffering from a...communication problem.” He stroked his beard for a moment, before continuing. “Tell me, what does your book say about the Fallacy?”  
  
“The Fallacy?” Mervil opened his tome, flipping through the pages until I reached the appropriate section. “”It may be that a Fallacy shall arise; marked by a mistake in the part to be played. Swiftly this must be dealt with, and the course corrected.” Am I right in assuming that Allanon was our Fallacy?”  
  
“Oh yes, I agree that Allanon was the clearest indication of this Fallacy. Unfortunately, errors are a tricky thing. Often, when something goes wrong on the surface, if you look hard enough, you can trace it back to an error made much earlier.”  
  
At this, Mervil look puzzled. “What are you suggesting, Yazstromo? That one of these people isn’t who we think they are? That I got it wrong?”  
  
“That is exactly what I am suggesting.” The old man sighed, sitting silently for a moment, before speaking again. “This prophecy...it’s about redemption. Redemption for the mistakes we’ve made, for past follies. A kingdom fell, yet the evil that brought it to its knees has come back to haunt us. And just as the errors made were symbolised by that one little Fallacy, so too is this need to repent...” Yazstromo turned his head to the bandit standing next to the young girl, and smiled. “”There shall be one, a criminal, who has followed a dark path...””  
  
““And he shall be marked by death, but shown mercy by the Innocence of a kind heart, and he shall be given the chance to be Redeemed.”” The cloaked man finished the mystic words, written on the pages held in his hands, and looked back to Yazstromo.  
  
“Now, Mervil, tell me...who was it that chastised and ridiculed Kaz, and looked at him as unworthy, unclean, and incapable of redemption? Who was it that abandoned him to his fate in the ocean, and led the rest of us away from this man chosen by fate?” He then looked at the Rito captain, looking surprised at being the focus of his attention. “And who was it that rescued him from the hand dealt by a bitter soul, and brought him back into the fold? Who was it that took us on board and got us to our destination, to “deliver us to the places marked by destiny”? Mervil...Naomi is the Deliverer. Not you.”  
  
The courtyard was still, nobody daring to make a sound. The moment seemed to stretch on eternally, painfully. And then, the realisation hit Mervil, his face a permanent mask of shock. At the corner of his eye, a single tear began to form, slowly etching a moist scar of horror and disgrace as it slid along his cheek. “No...I-I...have to...I _need_ to b-...Arivis is _mine_, I was so sure...it can’t end like this.” This last comment was addressed to the old man, pleading. Then, almost as if it never happened, Mervil composed himself, the odd fluttering of his eyelids being the only sign of the ruse. “I doubt that being mistaken of my importance to these events is enough to throw us...you completely off course. So tell me, who else was I mistaken about?”  
  
Yazstromo smiled again, though for once, there was a weariness concealed behind it, as if this simple movement of the mouth had been used one too many times to bottle away his true feelings. “I would’ve thought it was obvious. We clearly can’t continue without our Warrior, and unfortunately, your candidate for the role is no longer with us.”  
  
“I hope you all have the best of luck in finding your Warrior. I’m sorry I had to waste all of your time with my failure at being useful.”  
  
Mervil turned to leave, but was stopped by a familiar chuckle. “Well then, I guess we’re very lucky that we already found him. That really would’ve been a hassle if we had to go trudging through more fantastic backdrops to find him.” Mervil’s cold expression faltered for a moment, betraying his confusion. “Mervil, may I remind you that Galysses was unable to draw the Master Sword from its pedestal; you were. The sword clearly marked _you_ as the Warrior we seek, as does the Prophecy.” Yazstromo cleared his throat. “”And a Warrior will emerge from the shadows, forbidden to slip into death, not while the revenge that grips his heart still lives. He shall draw the ancient blade from its resting place. And brandishing the bane of all that is evil, those chosen by destiny shall vanquish their foes.” I don’t know if you’ll agree, but to me, you certainly fit the description.” If the shock of not being the Deliverer affected Mervil, it seemed to be nothing compared to the revelation that he was the Warrior; that he was destined to defeat Arivis. While his grim satisfaction was evident, it soon crumbled around him as reality hit home.  
  
“While I hate having to repeat myself, we still have to deal with one very important issue: the blade of evil’s bane is at the moment sprinkled on the ground over there. So what if I’m the Warrior? Without the Master Sword, we cannot destroy Arivis, and the prophecy goes unfulfilled.”  
  
“And I hate to ruin all the fun you’re having being a depressing buzzkill, but who said the Master Sword would be used to destroy Arivis?” Yazstromo paused for a moment, so that he could savour toying with the Wanderer just a little longer. “I’m afraid that last part of the prophecy is a touch misleading. You see, it isn’t referring to the Master Sword, but...how does that old saying go? “Evil triumphs only when-“  
  
“-when good men do nothing.” Everyone turned to look at Kaz; Yazstromo with a pleased twinkle to his eye, the rest apparently surprised at the ex-bandit’s knowledge of such a profound statement on the nature of good and evil.  
  
“Exactly. The bane of all evil is hope, and being willing to go out on any limb to stop evil from succeeding. To stop Arivis, we have to make a stand, however futile it may seem. And we must do this because any effort on our part, no matter how seemingly insignificant, is far more likely to end well than simply giving up. It’s a shame we no longer have our Compass to point us in the right direction...”  
  
“Our what?” Naomi asked, finally speaking. “I don’t remember seein’ any compass.”  
  
“Well, Mervil knows what I’m talking about. It’s written in his boo-“ He stopped, as he noticed that Mervil’s eyes remained strangely blank. “Ah...of course. You thought it was some sort of...metaphor. Then I’d recommend turning the pages of that book of yours towards the beginning of the prophecy. It should go something along the lines of...“The chosen shall meet with destiny, their path illuminated by the Compass of fate. Plucked from obscurity, they shall follow Its guiding influence.””  
  
“So, you’re saying that one of us is this Compass?” Kaz queried. At this, the old man looked sadder than anyone had ever seen him before.  
  
“Indeed, Kaz. It’s your friend lying just behind you.”


	27. Section 6.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original note:  
Thanks to DC for helping to make this addition possible. Well, guys, here's another trip into the land of FF-goodness. Have a nice day! *hums*
> 
> Forever Forgotten: The Price of Salvation

Gray clouds blocked the stars and full moon, as a single drop of rain splattered on Kaz’s leather gauntlets. He looked up at the Prophet; never had he noticed how tall Yazstromo was or that his presence seemed to fill the whole courtyard. Why almost a moment ago…he seemed so _frail_, but now he could swear that this man could perhaps take on Naomi or Mervil…It was then that he heard the last of the Prophet’s words—something to do with one of them being a compass.  
  
“So, you’re saying that one of us is this Compass?” Kaz could feel his stomach turning—he did not need to hear Yazstromo’s words to know. He was already at Railin’s side before the elder man had a chance to finish. He sat there, caressing his friends head. “Why did you have to be so stupid!? We…we…need you and you had to…you had to _die _didn’t you?”  
  
“What do we do now?” He heard Tap ask through a fog, not sure if she meant for anyone to hear. He could see her on the other side of Railin, kneeling beside him, trying to heal him again. Tears glistened in her dark eyes as she shook her head. “Yazstromo? Mervil?”  
  
Naomi placed a hand on the Innocent’s shoulder and whispered something to younger woman. “I know…I know,” Tap replied, “I just wish…why did he have to die? He didn’t deserve it.”  
  
The Rito opened her mouth to speak, but Mervil—now standing behind her—spoke before she could. “Who do you think is more likely to die—the innocent or the deserving? Girl, didn’t you realize there is always a _price _to save the world.” Kaz could hear a hint of exhaustion in his voice. They were all weary and three of their number: Railin, Galysses, and Allanon were dead; even if he thought Allanon was a crazy fool.  
  
“Just like you to never care,” Kaz glared fiercely at him…or as fiercely as he could. Even when Yazstromo brought the De—Hero down a notch, he was just as frightening as a redead or poe wishing for Kaz to join them in the grave. He shivered at the thought. He hated poes. “All you ever do is—“  
  
“Shut your mouth, Kaz,” Naomi said, quietly, her mahogany gaze upon him. Why was she on _his _side? Didn’t she think Mervil was Death incarnate? “How many wars have you heard of where those who least deserved it died? Railin wasn’t the only one who didn’t deserve death today.” She glanced at Allanon’s cloak. There was no body. Kaz gasped before reminding himself of all the stories he had heard of Allanon’s people. They never left a body when they died, the only remains was the cloak of the Garo and his blue jewels spread all across the courtyard. Naomi looked over at the remains of the Stalfos warrior. Kaz doubted that he would be returning from the dead, for too much time had passed for that, he was sure.  
  
“I…know.” He closed his eyes and sighed.  
  
“All we can do is bury our dead,” Mervil said. “We must act quickly, for Crandall Cemetery is not so close that we may spend more time mourning here.” He motioned for Yazstromo to pick up the Fallacy’s empty cloak. A single, large blue jewel fell out, which the Prophet picked up and hid among his robes. It seemed the old man was still as interested in collecting things as he had ever been. Mervil picked up Railin's body gently, almost as if he was a doll or child. Railin’s head hung to one side, partially covered by shadows cast by the looming figure of Death. Kaz shivered, and turned to help the others gather Galysses’ bones. They placed them in what Kaz supposed was Naomi’s white cloak. He was amazed that they managed to find them all.  
  
Lightning flashed against the dark sky as torrents of rain fell upon the traveling group. Naomi drew an eerie ball of orange-gold light into existence and Mervil gave her a silent, but meaningful glance. Kaz did not understand it, but he was suddenly glad they did not speak or argue. Somehow, even the thought of words was wrong at this time and this place. He could not imagine any of them speaking…silence seemed the rightful dirge for the burying of the dead.  
  
Mervil and Naomi lead them out of the courtyard, where the Master Sword had once stood awaiting the Chosen Hero’s hand, and into a pathway Kaz had not noticed before. It had almost been hidden by the violet roses that dotted the climbing bushes on either side of it. Catching a wisp of their scent, he paused. Why did these strange, violet flowers almost seem to have a _mournful _smell? He shook his head, _That’s impossible._  
  
“‘The mourning roses of Crandall…,’ hmmmm.” Kaz turned his head to watch as Prophet too admired the flowers. Suddenly, the older man grabbed Kaz’s arm; he had never expected that Yazstromo had such an iron grip. “C’mon. They’ll get there before we’re even out of the castle at this rate, boy. Really, you should try to make yourself more useful then standing ‘round and making everyone else do the work.”  
  
“But, I wasn’t—” He suddenly found Allanon’s brown, empty cloak in his arms, and Yazstromo dragging him up the path. On either side there were more the same rosebushes that had made the hidden pathway seem invisible. “Hey, I don’t need you to drag me,” Kaz complained, “I can walk there myself.”  
  
“I doubt you even know where, ‘there’ is.” Yazstromo replied, continuing to lead him by the hand. “And, if I let go, you’d get lost in the ruins of Crandall Castle and never find your way out of the place. We can’t go losing the Redeemed, now, can we?”  
  
“I…guess not.” Kaz sighed. “But, I’m not a chi—“  
  
“Compared to all of us, both you and the Innocent are children. So, be silent.” He said, and then turned down another pathway and another until Kaz felt completely lost. To Kaz, they looked exactly the same. The same rosebushes on both sides, the same cold, dreary rain falling in sheets, the same lightning falling all around them, the same sound of thunder rumbling above, and the same, stupid, light that seemed to come from the crystal spoon on the end of the Prophet’s staff.  
  
“When the hell did your staff start _glowing _like that?” Kaz could not stop the words from leaving his mouth and flinched as Yazstromo’s unclouded, ice-blue eyes glared back at him. His look seemed as sharp as the knife the old man had thrown at Arivis days before at the Bronze Tower. Kaz shivered involuntarily.  
  
“It’s a trick.” Yazstromo said quickly, turning down another path and quickening his step. “Now, if you would remain quiet, Mervil may not bite our heads off for falling behind. We’re not here to discuss what old Yazstromo can sometimes do, now, are we?”  
  
Kaz shook his head. “I’m sorry. I won’t talk anymore, Mr. Prophet.”  
  
Yazstromo glanced at him and rolled his eyes, but said nothing as they turned another corner in the rosebush maze. Looking at the foliage around him, Kaz wondered if Mervil maintained the place, or if…it was just another strange attribute of the bushes themselves. They could be magic too, he decided, but whatever they were, he hated it. Mazes always made him feel sick to his stomach, the twists, the turns and the rosebush lined paths that all looked the same to his eyes. Part of him began to think there could be no end to the stupid thing. But then, they made one final turn and Kaz found himself on the ruined, cobblestone street that ran beside the rosebush gardens of Crandall Castle. He gave a short laugh, but cut back his levity as the sharp eyes of the Prophet cast upon him. Damn, how he hated those stupid eyes. Why couldn’t Yazstromo go back to the cloudy-eyed old man he was before?  
  
“This way,” Yazstromo guided him up the road, from where he could see the ruined capital of Crandall, with its broken domes and towers, ruined streets and buildings. This place had once been the greatest city in the world. As Kaz looked, he wondered how Hyrule’s little capital would even hold up against Arivis’ great might, if this place had fallen to the same Demon that currently plagued his homeland._ What chance do we have?_ He thought.  
  
In the direction that the Prophet led him, Kaz could swear he could see more ruins on a hilltop in the distance. At least, he thought they were ruins, but some part of him wasn’t sure. Despite the fact that it was walled off, the walls did not appear to be the type that would protect a city from a giant army of Numen or any others who would try to take it. Instead, they were thinner and shorter than the breached walls that surrounded the once great capital of Crandall, and, as they got nearer, he thought they might be somewhat newer. Yet, whatever they 'guarded', he could not see from here.  
  
“Mr. Prophet—“  
  
“Be quiet—“  
  
“No.” Kaz said firmly. “What is that place?”  
  
The old man sighed, “How much should I expect you to use the thing on inside of your head?” For the rest of the trek, they both remained silent, Kaz brooding over Yazstromo’s insult and the Prophet steadfastly refusing to talk. Upon reaching the entrance, Kaz found it was not a pair of watchtowers as he had thought, but only a broad stone archway with twin barred gates. Both featured the delicate design of a violet colored rose, much like the roses on the bushes in the maze. Above the gates, he could see words carved into the stone archway, a script too foreign for him to read.  
  
Before the gate, Naomi, Mervil, and the Innocent stood, rain still pouring around them. The hood of Mervil’s cloak was down and Tap had removed her red hat. Naomi had nothing to remove from her head, but something seemed different about the Rito as well. Both Naomi and Mervil turned to look as Kaz and the Prophet approached. Kaz shivered as lightning revealed their faces, chilling him to the bone; it was as if looking upon Life and Death itself. For a moment, he believed the three who had died that day would receiving the most honored burial ever bestowed upon mortal beings.  
  
He blinked and shook the rain off his head, _That’s crazy,_ Kaz. _They’re just _like _all of us. Even if they are half-mad and have lived half of forever._  
  
“‘Here lie those who have fallen in the Wars against Arivis in the land of Crandall.’” Mervil read from the inscription on the stone archway. He bowed his head. “May they rest in peace.” He lifted his one good hand and touched the gate; silently the barred gate swung open. It was the first time Kaz realized the gate had no lock…other than one of magic. _How many other things in the world are mixed in with another one of Mervil’s spells?_ He wondered as they walked under the archway, _how much more has this man done? _  
  
The rain stopped, or perhaps, Kaz realized, the rain did not touch this place. Before them lay the largest cemetery Kaz had ever seen. Spanning miles from his left to his right, he could see white, rounded gravestones. None of the stones were larger than the others but each were marked with the name and date of the person who died. At least...the ones Mervil or whoever had laid them, knew the names of. He felt a chill crawl up his skin as the came to the only open places left in the graveyard. Three open spaces. How could grave keepers have known the exact number of people who would die in Crandall before Arivis was dead?  
  
“50,456…that is how many died in the wars.” Somehow, Kaz knew that the number was from the book, or at least hoped it was. He could not believe Mervil knew the exact toll from any other source and doubted even one as old as he could have buried them all.  
  
“There was one other,” Naomi said, barely above a whisper. “Selina…”  
  
Mervil only nodded in reply. “This night, we bury the last three.”  
  
A moment later, Kaz found the body of Railin in his arms, and watched Mervil as he took out his book but did not turn to any page. It was only part of the ceremony, along with the strange words that Kaz did not quite understand. It was as if the language spoken was only half-remembered, or had changed so much over time that it had become his language, but so old that he did not know it. Suddenly, the earth shook, and the three graves lying in front of them were opened, mounds of dirt at their sides. Kaz knew this was more of Mervil’s work. More magic. He would be glad to not see any more once this journey was done…at least, not for a long time.  
  
Two of the graves held a stone casket, the lid laid by it’s side. They were white and non-decorative except for a violet rose embedded in gold on each lid—the Rose of Crandall—Kaz assumed. Yazstromo, who once again held Allanon’s cloak, placed it in the grave on the left. Kaz watched the lid slide over the casket and the dirt fall back into the perfectly dug hole. A moment later, a gravestone grew out of the ground and Mervil carved the name, date of death, and a short epitaph with magic. Like everything else in the graveyard, the Epitaph was in a script Kaz did not understand. It was not even remotely close to the familiar Hylian he knew.  
  
The next grave belonged to the Stalfos. This one was different, for there was no casket to speak of…only a long, stone table. Mervil asked Naomi to hand him her cloak-turned bag, and placed it in the grave. After withdrawing his hand the dirt fell into the grave and a stone, identical to the one on Allanon’s grave, grew.  
  
Mervil motioned Kaz’s towards the last grave. The place where he knew he must lay his friend down to his final rest. So far from home and the mother that Railin had loved. That was the only reason he had been a thief, not for the petty excitement Kaz thought the lifestyle offered. Kaz looked at his friend one last time and whispered, “It should’ve been me, brother—why couldn’t you understand that? Sleep well.” He placed him in the grave and watched the dirt fall back into place and a freshly grown tombstone grow. It seemed Mervil knew his birth date and death date alike, and wrote a simple epitaph:  
  
“Beloved brother and friend,  
May his memory guide us to victory  
And the end.”  
  
Kaz wept in front of it until sleep claimed him.  
  
  
***  
  
  
“Kaz?” Tap shook the once-thief softly, “Kaz!”  
  
He mumbled something, she wasn’t sure what, but it was something about Railin. He sighed, and opened his eyes, meeting hers—he frowned and looked away. “It really is true…isn’t it? It’s not just some nightmare—I mean, Railin really is dead.”  
  
Tap nodded and saw tears form at the corners of her friend’s eyes. For a moment, she wondered if he would fall back into a tearful fit as he had done before, but this time he just sighed. “Did ya wake me up because _they _wanted us to go?”  
  
She smiled, “Nope, set up. Naomi just wants you to eat something and she’s tired of trying to make you do it herself.” Tap looked around, making sure that the Rito-lady was not nearby. “I think she wanted me to do it because…you would be more responsive or something. If you’d ask me, I think she’s just gone crazy. She knows you better than I do and…”  
  
He blushed and Tap raised her eyebrows. She hoped to her gods that he did not think of her like that, she certainly did not think of him like it, but…if it would get him out of his angst driven state… She would do anything for a friend. “Here,” She handed the bowl of soup to him. “It’s a good thing that I made this, you know, I’m a fine cook, right?”  
  
His eyes seemed to grow as big as saucers. “Ummmm…”  
  
“Ummmm?” He bolted up. “I…think, I think I’ll go find something else. No, in fact, I’m not hungry at all.”  
  
“Not hungry?” Tap tilted her head, her black hair falling like a stream of midnight. “What do you mean, ‘not hungry’? You’ve not eaten anything in like three or four days!” She moved the bowl closer to his mouth and he backed into the stone wall behind him. She gave a laugh. “You’ll eat it if you want to or not. Naomi said it was good.”  
  
“That Rito doesn’t know what’s good then.” He said, quickly, and she glared. How dare he not like her food!? Everyone said she was an excellent cook. “Really, have ya ever tasted what you make, Tap?”  
  
“Yeah,” She continued to glare, “and it _tastes _great. If you can’t stand a little forest cookin’ then you just don’t know what’s good!”  
  
He looked at her, looked at her chicken soup, looked at her again and sighed. “Fine,” He gave up. “But, do I have to eat all of it?”  
  
“Yeah.” She forced the first spoon full in his mouth, he quenched, and…spat it back out. “What in all the Blessed Realms are you doing, Kaz?”  
  
“Did you even cook that?” Tap shrank back. “Did you Tap? Or did you think that it might cook itself? That stuff is lukewarm. You’re supposed to serve soup hot!”  
  
Tap looked at the bowl and stirred the ‘soup’ with her spoon thoughtfully. She could remember cooking it, but she never really liked really hot things. Why would Kaz want it spicy or warm? She tilted her head. “Hot? I never eat it hot. It burns my tongue! And, if you mean spicy—I’ve never put much spice in it because no one wants a spicy soup!”  
  
“Did you even make sure the _meat _was _cooked_, at least?” He asked. “Tap, are you really my friend? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have given that to Arivis.”  
  
“I _cooked _the meat!” She threw her hands in the air…and spilled the contents all over him. He held his mouth agape. “I’m…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it…I…I’m sorry.” She took a breath, “I’ll help clean it up.”  
  
He shook his head and gave her a friendly hug. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to say that, it really wasn’t that—it’s just not how I like. You know, some people like it cold—“  
  
“Some people like it hot, I know…it was Naomi’s idea that I cook for you anyways, she said…” This time Tap took a moment to blush. “That it would make you happy. The thought of it, I mean…or something. She seemed tired.”  
  
Kaz nodded in thought, then rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think…”  
  
“What?” Tap tilted her head and balanced it on the back side of her hand. “What didn’t you think, Kaz?”  
  
“No…nothing.” He said, quickly. “She just doesn’t seem the type to do that, that’s all. You know, with all the Deliverer nonsense…and stuff.”  
  
“I don’t think that means she changed any, just that Death wasn’t smart enough to figure it out,” she smirked. “Do you like Naomi, Kaz?”  
  
“What?” He seemed shocked, but that was what Tap had believed since the Rito had brought him back to them. That was always what happened in the stories, you fell in love with the one who saved you, right? It would be wrong if he hadn’t, and Tap would feel bad for Naomi—that old woman could use some love in her life!  
  
“I mean,” Tap folded her arms. “You have to like her.”  
  
“Why is that?”  
  
“She saved your butt, Kaz! From whatever it was that wanted you! I mean, she delivered you from your worst nightmare, it would dishonor her if you didn’t. Don’t you see?” She pointed at him. “You. Must. Love. Her.”  
  
He shook his head. “Life isn’t a fairy tale, Tap. You should know that, and, anyways, I think that might be weird. Naomi’s like five million years old, I’d think Mervil would like that type more than me anyways. He’s like that old too.”  
  
“He’s only 2029.” Tap glared. Where had Kaz gotten those ridiculous numbers from? She wondered if Yazstromo had hit the man’s head on the way back to the Castle. She found it amazing, spending the night in the legendary ruined Castle of Crandall. Even if death and destruction were the last things this place had seen, it was still grand though, ruined grandeur.  
  
“That’s still ancient and I bet Naomi is twice as old—at least! Do ya see why I don’t like her?” He seemed to be begging. “I don’t think Naomi would like me anyways. In fact, I bet she’s already married and has a ton of descendants.”  
  
“Or been married—her husband’s dead, I think,” Tap smiled. “See, you still have a chance, Kaz.”  
  
“I already said I did not like her!” He took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I…I…like you Tap.” He looked away, ashamed. “That’s the only reason I went away from thievery. I wanted you to like me. Whoever would like a thief, huh? They’re nasty villains and I was wrong ta do it. It’s wrong. I know that now.”  
  
Before she could stop him, she felt his lips against hers. She started and backed away, slowly. “Kaz…I…, I don’t think we should do that. We won’t meet again and…you’re still not emotionally recovered. Trust me, you’re not. Until then…I don’t think this can do. I don’t think it will do at all.”  
  
“But, I knew before…” Kaz said—no pleaded—his eyes still locked with hers, but all Tap could do was shake her head. Why did he have to like her?  
  
“I’m sorry, Kaz.” She squeezed his hand, stood up, and closed the door. They had given him one of the rooms inside the castle as his own—Naomi mentioned it had belonged to a servant. With only a bed, dresser, washstand, and a window—Tap could believe it. All their rooms were like this and she supposed it was because the rest of the ancient Castle was in a greater state of disrepair. Maybe no one cared about destroying the servants’ rooms…but how they were not in ruins or even damaged was beyond her. Perhaps, it had something to do with Mervil.  
  
She heard a sigh behind her as Kaz opened the door. “I’m sorry…ummm, did someone else make some food, by any chance?”  
  
She glared at him. “I can’t believe you!” She took a breath and counted to seven. Naomi had said it might come in handy when dealing with him in this ‘state’. “Nao…Naomi did make some lunch. Ah…do you want some?”  
  
He gave her a cocky smile and headed off down the hall. Tap laughed, just like Kaz to think he knew where he was going, she really hoped he never ended up in a maze or town without someone to guide him. Yazstromo had told her about the maze problem three nights ago and how Kaz looked so green that he might throw up.  
  
“Kaz!” Tap called, her voice echoed down the undecorated stone hall. He stopped and turned around. “It’s the other way!”  
  
“It…it is?” He queried. “Damn. I’ll never understand why people like to make places more like a maze than a proper building. I swear, Tap, these people were mad!”  
  
“Don’t let Mervil hear you say that…”  
  
“Hah. He’s only the Hero.” Tap flinched, why did Kaz always say the worst things he could at the worst possible times? Didn't he realize the same Mervil of which he spoke was walking down the hall, book in hand, glaring a hole into Kaz’s back. “He’s not even the Deliverer! I bet the Redeemed is more important than him! He’s just Death the Hero. Isn’t that Ironic, Tap? Well, isn’t it?”  
  
“Ummmm,” Tap looked away. “Are you sure you’re alright, Kaz?”  
  
“I feel wonderful! I bet I could take on Arivis and beat him so bad that he’ll regret even having lived! He’s no match for Kaz the Magnificent!” He pushed the air and then kicked it. “And he’s down for good! All hail Kaz, the Her—“  
  
“Please stop, Kaz,” Tap said, hoping she could get him out of there before Mervil broke his neck. Why couldn’t he avoid saying stupid things?  
  
“Why?” Kaz asked. “Oh…damn.” He turned around and looked right into Death’s blue eyed-gaze. “I…”  
  
“What makes you think you stand a chance?” Mervil asked, not expecting a reply. “There are those much more powerful than you who have failed.”  
  
“I…”  
  
“No, you will listen and you will not say anything, girl.” said Mervil grimacing. Tap thought that was the emotion he always wore, but perhaps, she mused, he was grimacing more. “You may be the ‘Redeemed’ according to the Prophet, but you have yet to find that redemption as well. Don’t take yourself for more than you are worth, even if our ‘_Deliverer_’ has given you a third chance I will not give you a fourth.”  
  
“But, isn’t he needed?” Tap asked. “I thought the Prophet said he was important!”  
  
Mervil did not answer, instead, he walked past them without a backwards glance. Sometimes, he acted like only Yazstromo and Naomi existed—especially if he thought someone wasn’t useful. She rolled her eyes, she couldn’t stand people like that foolish man, even if he was meant saving Hyrule. Tap hated him.  
  
“Son of Navi!” Tap had never heard such a vile curse from Kaz, even if his normal utterances were bad enough. She stared at him blankly. “Sorry Tap, but that’s what he is. He don’t care crap about anyone no matter what Naomi thinks. Do you think she likes him too?”  
  
“Maybe Naomi should probe your brain with her magic.” Tap said. “Those two would rather cut each other’s necks than be in the same room together if they could help it.” She then gave a gentle smile and took his hand. “Do you want lunch or not? I’m really sorry for earlier, it wasn’t supposed to be that bad…again.”  
  
He just laughed. “It’s okay, but yeah. Naomi is at least a _good _cook. Oh, and Yazstromo is too.”  
  
Tap smacked him playfully and then ran down the hall. He chased after her, “Don’t run so fast! I’ve not eaten yet and—hey! You know I get lost.”  
  
“The Prophet’s room is right next to yours, Kaz,” She called back, “He could always help you!”  
  
“But…but, all the doors look the same.” He cried and she laughed. “It’s not funny, Tap, I’m not good at this maze stuff.”  
  
Tap smiled and opened one of the double doors to the room that had once been the servants’ kitchen. It hadn't been used as one for so long she figured the only people who remembered it as a kitchen were either long dead or on the other side of the door. Kaz came closer, breathing slightly harder than he should have for such a short run, but then…he was hurt the most. There was a reason they had stayed for so long.  
  
The kitchen was sparse as this was the first use it had seen for an extremely long time. A large table with a few three legged stools stood in the middle—more than enough for their small number—but smaller than the kitchen once comfortably held. A huge fireplace for cooking large meals graced one of the walls, alongside a tub once used for washing dishes. There were also several well-built, if a bit sparsely decorated, cupboards that once stored vast amounts of food, dishes and spices, but all of those things were long gone. There were also some drawers which still contained silverware. At least it had, to Yazstromo’s great pleasure, he had taken it all somewhere. Tap was starting to think he had his own private horse or something hidden away to carry it all.  
  
She heard Naomi sigh and realized that the Rito was in there. And so were Yazstromo and Mervil, discussing some business that the two of them were not suppose to take part in. It was as if the three of them thought that they were not part of this whole journey at all. Tap looked around for Kaz and saw that he had made his way over to the large pot simmering in the fireplace, bowl in hand. He took a serving of whatever Naomi or perhaps Yazstromo had made. She hadn’t actually been there to see who cooked, but she didn’t think Mervil would ever cook lunch for anyone.  
  
Kaz sat down on one of the stools furthest away from three older members of the group and Tap took the stool next to him. “So,” he began with a smile, “Do ya know if this is any good?”  
  
“I ate my own cooking.” She replied sticking out her tongue. “I don’t care what you think about it. I love it. My stuff is greater than anything Naomi could make anyways.”  
  
He laughed, then took a bite. “Oh! This is wonderful!” Kaz cheered. “It’s so spicy. Yeah!”  
  
The other three looked over at them and Yazstromo snickered, saying something quickly to Naomi who gave a quick laugh. Mervil made an audible cough and flipped a page in his book.  
  
“So who made this; you—Naomi—or Yazstromo?” He questioned, taking another bite. “I didn’t know you liked to make spicy things…”  
  
The Prophet coughed and glanced at Mervil, who turned another page as if he did not hear what they were saying. “Oh, it was no other than the great master culinary of arts himself—Mervil-lo. I didn’t think he was the hero of cooking and the Hero of Prophecy. It seems he is full of strange and wonderful secrets. Like the love of…choc—“  
  
“I—“  
  
“I never thought you would be one to have a sweet tooth.” Naomi snickered.  
  
“Mervil _likes _chocolate?” Kaz inquired.  
  
“Hmmm, maybe it’s like dark chocolate.” Tap concluded. “I could never see him liking anything that sweet.”  
  
“Yes,” Yazstromo said, “Is it sweet or dark that takes your fancy? I don’t think you told us that.”  
  
Mervil closed his book. His piercing gaze landed on each in turn, then he looked back at the Prophet. “I prefer white.”  
  
“That’s not even real chocolate,” Kaz mumbled. “I thought you said he liked chocolate, Yaz—I mean, Mr. Prophet.”  
  
“Will you stop with the titles?” The Prophet sighed. “Where in the world did you learn that?”  
  
Kaz smirked, “I…I learned it from Railin’s mother.”  
  
Silence protruded. Echoing throughout the kitchen until the Prophet coughed, twice, causing the group to focus on him. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and glanced at Mervil and then at Naomi with a strange twinkle in his eyes. “I see.” He said. “Where is she?”  
  
“Hyrule Castle Town…I’ll have to tell her of her son’s death.” Kaz said slowly, looking down at his feet, but Tap could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. She gave him a smile. “I really don’t wanna, but have to. She’d skin me alive if she doesn’t know soon.”  
  
“She should be proud of what her son did,” He looked up at the Rito as she spoke and meant her eyes. “He was a good man.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Hmmmm.” Yazstromo remarked, “What do you think of it, Mervil? Hyrule Castle Town. It seems,” He smirked, “that even in death, that the compass points us where we need to go. I think it may be time—”  
  
“Not yet, Prophet,” Mervil closed his book. “We must not rush into it as I’m sure you know. Tomorrow morning, we will take leave of Crandall Castle and head south towards Barron Village.”  
  
Naomi gave him a blank stare. “You swore you wouldn’t ever go back there. Not until Arivis fell.”  
  
“‘Ancient oaths must be shattered to save the world.’” Yazstromo quoted, meeting her eyes.  
  
“Not all oaths.” She said. “At least, not that one.”  
  
He only nodded in reply, then glanced at Mervil. “Warrior, where to next?” Tap thought it would have been fun to give Yazstromo a pipe. It would fit his expression perfectly.  
  
“We could always go through the Lost Woods,” Tap chimed in, even though she was sure they wouldn't listen to her. “I mean, if you turn the right way, you could reach Hyrule Castle a lot faster than going on ship…”  
  
“Or be lost forever,” Naomi said, “The only one among us who knows the way was Allanon. Maybe a Deku or a Kokiri could help, but I doubt either of those will wake-up juice up any time soon. Truly, mates, that path is madness!”  
  
Kaz nodded, but Mervil argued, “We must take that route. Allanon was not the one meant to guide us and the prophecy clearly says that we must go. Arivis won’t expect it.” He glanced at Naomi. “It isn’t the path I would prefer, either.”  
  
“Maybe we’ll get a _Guide_.” The Prophet winked, slyly. “Wouldn’t that be helpful!” Then he got off his stool and walked out without a word of farewell. Tap’s eyes followed him until he slammed the door behind him.  
  
“I didn’t think he was that irritated.” Kaz said, though Tap would never call even that anger. She was sure the day Yazstromo got mad was the day they should run for the hills and not stop running until they reached the other side of the ocean. “I bet that’s what he’s been saying all along whilst those two argue forever on the subject. Isn’t it?”  
  
Tap stared, then nodded. “Maybe it would be best to leave. Let the old grumps be grumpy.” Kaz laughed. “I’m outta here too, Yaz got it right.”  
  
***  
  
Naomi watched as Kaz followed the black haired Innocent out of the old kitchen with her arms folded and tapping at her left elbow with her right hand. _Old Grumps? _She rolled her eyes slightly and then blew air out of her beak in anger. _The only ‘old grump’ here I see is Mervil._ She glanced at the only remaining member of the group and watched as he turned a page in his ancient tome. His blue eyes never left the ancient script that the Rito swore he had read tens of thousands of times in his long life. Why was it so important that he read it again, now? _That madman has to have memorized the whole bloody thing_, she mused—he flipped another page.  
  
“What do you plan to do when we get there?” The Rito broke the silence that had enfolded the room since the others had left. “Arivis thinks you’re as dead as the Gerudo Desert west of Hyrule.”  
  
He did not lift his eyes from his book, but placed a finger on it to mark where he read. “We first must reach the Demon Woods—” She noted that he used the ancient name with a start. “And pass through it. Then, once we reach the Castle Town of Hyrule, I believe Arivis would still think me dead…” She could’ve sworn she saw a slight smile on his face and shivered. “A plesant surprise for that winged fool—it may be one of the few weapons we have against him.”  
  
“Few?!” She glared at the man in the tattered, black cloak. He did not even seem to move. “What are you hiding?”  
  
The Warrior shrugged, and like a skillful magician playing a trick, he changed the topic: “It isn’t white chocolate. I have always held a fondness for milk.” He went back to read his giant book, as the Rito left him to the inner recesses of his mind, to brood over whatever came to him. They were done here, she knew. Once he was certain she was not returning, he placed the large tome on the table and touching something hidden in his cloak, nodded to himself. He almost took it out, but stopped—someone was opening one of the large double doors. He looked up.  
  
The Prophet stood there with a clever smile carved upon his face. His expression was a stone sign that read: ‘I know what you have there, Mervil, and I know what you’re thinking.’ The Warrior picked up his book and went back to reading. “Oh,” Yazstromo said, “I just thought I might make some dinner—except if you want to.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Suit yourself.” He still wore the same smile. “I'd be careful of your thoughts and emotions if you want to use that thing—pure hatred isn’t _pure_. At least, not pure enough for that.”  
  
***  
  
The only difference daylight had on the Cemetery was instead of a cloudy sky with the large, full moon shining through, there was now a cloudy sky like the one seen just before a storm. But, Kaz knew it never rained here, or snowed for that matter. This place was much too sacred for the _elements _to change it.  
  
Kaz had climbed over the wall; it was no hard endeavor, there were plenty of footholds and it was only about one-and-a-half Mervil’s high. He had done the same when trying to take something from a noble’s house, or, even, the Castle of Hyrule. _Some skills_, he decided, _were still useful._  
  
He slipped in unnoticed by anyone or anything and walked up to Railin’s grave. On the tombstone, he noticed that instead of a violet rose, there was the Triforce and Phoenix—a sign only placed on the graves of soldiers who had died in service to the Royal Family of Hyrule. Tears sprung to his eyes, Railin had always dreamed of dying in service to his crown and country. _How had Mervil known that? Maybe_, he thought, _the Cemetery knew that._  
  
“I…I came back to say that we’re leaving tomorrow, Railin,” Kaz began, trying to keep from choking on his words. He wiped the tears away with the cloth of his long coat; it was rather cool in the Cemetery. “I wanted to say goodbye because, well, this is probably the last time I’ll ever come back here. Even if we do defeat Arivis, I can’t say I wanna come back to this land. There’s too much death and destruction, and I know, if we fail—no, if I fail—Hyrule, no, the world, will just be another Crandall. Another wasteland where almost everyone has died, I guess we had to see it so we’d know what would happen. It’s so stupid that the Goddesses would choose people like us to save the world, because, hell, what chance do we have? We're about as sorry a group as you can get, you know that brother? I think there must be something truly wrong in their heads…but, I can’t change it. I know I have to help _try _to save Hyrule…and, I promise I will, for yours, hers, and everyone’s sake. Even if I’m not the Warrior or the Deliverer or the Prophet or the Innocent, this is still my battle as well as theirs and I have to accept my responsibility as the Redeemed. I must. I’ll see you when I get there, Railin, goodbye.”  
  
Kaz turned around, and to his surprise he saw a woman wearing a white tunic. He stumbled back when he realized that it was Naomi and fell on his back. She gave him a slight, knowing smile and a hand. He studied it for a moment, before taking it, and then she helped him onto his feet. “Were you listening to all of that, Ms. Naomi?”  
  
She shook her head, “Only a part, matey. There’s always a time we must set aside for grief.”  
  
“And when we have to say goodbye,” he said. “I had to say goodbye before we went, and I had to tell him I changed. I’m no longer a thief—I’m not sure what I am, but I had to let him know or maybe, tell that to myself. I have accepted who I am now, put away who I was and taken responsibility for what I did. When this is all done, I’m gonna change. Maybe join the army or learn magic or do something to help people. I can’t go back to being who I was, because frankly, that’s not who I am now.” He grinned. “See, it wasn’t useless that you saved me, Ms. Naomi.”  
  
She returned his smile. “I know. Long ago, when I lived on Dragonroost Island, it was tradition that the female Rito warriors would cut their hair when a warrior had the honor of dying in battle. It never happened that often—we were at peace when I served in our small army, and our warriors were the elite amongst those who lived on the Great Sea.” She reached up and undid the hair tie that kept her light, blond hair in a pony-tail. “I haven’t done this since the last war against Arivis, but…I feel it should be done for our dead. Railin, Galysses—even Allanon—deserves it. May I have your dagger, matey?”  
  
Kaz passed her his dagger. Then, the Rito took hold of her hair with one hand and sliced it with the other. The former-thief stared for a moment; Naomi’s hair only fell half-way down her neck, hardly enough to keep back with a hair-tie. “It symbolizes the price that was paid.”  
  
Kaz nodded, and they made their way back to the Crandall Castle.  
  
  
***  
  
Moonlight filtered through the large, stain-glass windows of the throne room of Hyrule Castle. Once they had held the pictures of great sages, warriors, and the goddesses whom the people believed made the land in ages past. Yet now, they were changed. Changed because the new king had merely wanted it so. Those pictures were no longer of those the Hylians called great, but instead, of demons and great evil. Of things the new king choose and made so, it seemed, by just a flick of his staffs. He had done more to insure the people trembled in fear. To show he was more powerful than those they held in high regard. His goal was to give them no hope in what they once believed, but to worship him.  
  
He smiled, but, he knew that the humans would call it only a mockery of a smile. Just as the beautiful face he had chosen for himself was only a mockery of a face. Hair short, black and straight. Blood red eyes that cast their gaze across the room. Teeth that ended in a point. He did this though, because he cared enough to make his subjects fear him. He loved to see his subjects tremble in his presence. It made him…happy.  
  
He gently caressed the Staff of Moon with his long fingers, the smile growing on his ‘too-pointed face’ as his subjects referred to it. He had heard their whispers in the night. Whispers too low to be heard, they thought, but soon he would kill those too. Make them wish that they had never uttered a syllable against him—their king. He giggled slightly at the thought. He loved their pain. He loved their screams. He loved when they begged for mercy. And he loved his reply in return. “No one will Deliver you now. Your Warrior—your Hero is gone. And, worm, your goddesses have forsaken you. Given _you _into my hand.”  
  
He laughed at the thought. Laughed with a corrupted form of happiness. _Yes_, he thought, _Mervil is dead, and I have no one who will bring the battle to me. None of these fools think a hope is left. Not even a drop of hope. Naomi and Yazstromo are not enough to defeat me…and when they come. The game is won! I win!_  
  
“Your Majesty,” he heard the voice of a servant girl. She was dressed in a well fitting tunic, one, she would’ve never worn before he was king. “Your…your…wine?”  
  
He took the golden goblet from her hand and traced the rim with his finger. Then, took a sip. He glared, fiercely. “Girl, were you the one to slip poison into my drink? Did you think a mere girl could defeat the great Arivis? Have I not told you your hero—your Warrior—are dead? Do not be so foolish to hang onto _hope_. Your _hopeless_.”  
  
She tried to back away, before tripping over an invisible thread he had made with the Staff of Moon. Only an ounce of magic for that. “I…I can’t believe that…I won’t. You just feed us lies.”  
  
“A strong one, hmmmm,” He said, tapping the staff with a long finger. “I thought I had gotten rid of all of you. Every. Single. Little worm. But, it seems one is around still. Hah! Well, so much for that, your hope is wasted girl. No one will deliver you.”  
  
“I’ll do it myself!”  
  
“No. You will not. Dance, girl, now. Before I decide to make your punishment worse.” He made sure to place extra venom in his words. “Dance.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Defiance.” He laughed mercilessly. “You realize, you interest me. Why defy me now when you have served me so well before? Why the change? I thought you liked being beautiful. You said your mother never made enough, and now…” He smiled like a snake.  
  
She glared.  
  
“Guards, send her to the dungeon. Do not let her speak with anyone. I won’t let her defiance spread among those still in Hyrule. Not like it could hurt, but…I hate her. Beat her until she bleeds. Have fun. Just don’t kill her. I think all who defy me must be treated like this—never allowed to die. I’m their greatest king, and they must never, ever forget this. Until she says, ‘Arivis is my king and hope,’ do not let her out again.” He smiled and she spat at his feet.  
  
“I won’t ever do it.”  
  
“That’s why it’s fun to make you!” He stood, “To see you fear me. To hear you scream. To see you cry out to a Warrior—a Hero—who will never come. To see you wish for a Deliverer who does not care. It’s…funny. How you Hylians always _think _your gods will send someone to save you from your doom. Take her, away.”  
  
Two Numen grabbed her by the arms and dragged her down a staircase. In his mind, he mentally marked her name—_Relia_—from those worthy to serve in his Castle. He then sat down again on his black marble throne. Foolish girl. Then he smiled, what did it matter if one girl defied him? He was Arivis the great! Victory was his, and no one would stop him.  
  
“My lord,” Arivis stared as his general stood before him, the twin to the Numan general who had been defeated in battle at the Bronze Tower. “May I inquire if we should move against them? My Numen—”  
  
“You will do no such thing.” Arivis said, anger replacing the fervent joy of knowing his victory was close at hand—he hated when his generals acted so stupid. “Wait. Our prey will come to us. They must and then…victory will be ours. Do not go out until they have arrived in the Castle Town—don’t! I will not have you causing myself to be defeated because of something _you _thought was better, worm. You do not know what it means to _think_. Wait for my command.”  
  
His general bowed. “I will do as you wish, my wise lord and master.” Then left Arivis alone as the pre-dawn light filtered through the stain-glass windows of Arivis’ Castle. He sat, a sinister smile growing on his face. They would come.  
  
***  
  
Kaz sighed and Tap looked back at him for a moment as the group traveled south through the plains, the older three somewhat ahead. There were no roads left in the land that had once been Crandall. _Except_, he reminded himself, _in the capital_. The landscape that he could see in the mid-morning light was mostly hills covered in field glass and wild flowers. Their surroundings had been like this since leaving the capital of Crandall that morning. The others had packed without him and had waited—impatiently—for him to get ready. Mervil had given him a look that should have killed him. He shivered at the memory.  
  
“Why are you sighing?” Tap asked as she skipped along like a puppy frolicking in sunlight that streamed down from above. “We’ve only been traveling for a few hours and Mervil and Naomi both said it isn’t that far.”  
  
“I’m just not sure I’m that excited to get there.” He explained. “Will you quit that?”  
  
“No. It’s a nice to skip.” She continued onward. “It’s so pretty outside with the sunshine and the flowers and these fields. So undisturbed by people… Why are you so downcast? This place is so beautiful?”  
  
“I…why do you think?” He said grimly. “I lost my best friend. Isn’t that reason enough?” She stopped skipping, but he could still see a little hop in her step. “Anyways, it’s just…Mervil…”  
  
“He’s the same as always. Same gloom and doom kind of character. He’s just like _death _himself the way he stalks everywhere he goes.” She folded her arms as she continued to walk. “If he hadn’t…” She shook her head then smiled back at him. “Why is he worrying you?”  
  
“He’s just acting different.” Kaz explained. “Like this Barron is not a place he would ever want to see again in a thousand life times or something.”  
  
Tap shrugged. “Like anything could ever scare away Mr. Mervil. He doesn’t fear anything. Not anything at all.”  
  
“He’s still _human_, Tap.” Kaz shook his head. “Even if I don’t believe that at times. He almost died saving Yazstromo’s life…I even think…”  
  
“I can’t do that, Kaz.” She stopped for a moment and hung her head. “I’m sorry. If I could’ve…I really wish I could’ve—do you understand?”  
  
Kaz gave her a grin. “I know.” Then, he squeezed her hand and began running and pulling her up to the top of the next hilltop with him. They had already fallen quite behind, and he had no desire of getting lost in the back country in some forgotten land. Naomi gave him a glance before the Rito rolled her eyes and continued on.  
  
For the next while, the group climbed over hills and back down them, remaining silent as the morning sun rose, it reaching its zenith. They stopped for lunch at a place where two tall trees grew. They were large and mighty oaks, Kaz could not remember seeing such trees anywhere else, but here they stood like a memorial for something or someone. If any of their party knew then refused to mention why they were here. For the most part, it was a silent and quick meal of jerky, cheese, bread, and water. Repast aside, it seemed that they were back on their way. Mervil wished them to move quickly, as if the whole army of Arivis’ was at their heels. A part of Kaz was beginning to wonder if they actually were.  
  
“Gather yourselves quickly,” Mervil commanded as Kaz was still finishing his meal. “We must move with haste.”  
  
“Haste my *Navi*,” Kaz mumbled, but stood, stuffing the rest of his cheese in his mouth and quickly gathering his things. Why did it feel like Mervil was trying to make it seem everyone was always waiting on him?  
  
For the next several hours, they appeared to be traveling downhill. Kaz hadn’t noticed it at first, but he soon realized that the land was slightly slanted downword. The farther they traveled, the more slanted it became. It was then, at the edge of vision, he noticed a blackened dot, and pointed it out with his right pointer figure. “Is…is that it?”  
  
For a few more minutes no one answered him, then, Mervil gave a slight nod and quickened his step. Tap looked up at Mervil’s face, “It looks like…like it was burnt down. Who did this to Barron, Mr. Mervil? It’s horrible! They…destroyed it all.”  
  
Mervil’s stopped and stood for a time staring at the destroyed village that lay before him, dark cloak flowing in the breeze. Here and there, a building stood intact, but was completely charred by flames. Kaz doubted that any of these buildings were stable enough for a person to safely walk into one without it falling on top of them. A chill crawled down Kaz’s spine. Was this what would become of Hyrule if they did nothing? A wasteland where no one lived and evil ruled until time untold? He looked up at the tall, cloaked man as he uttered what Kaz already knew had to be: “This is the work of those who follow Arivis—the Numen.”  
  
“This…” The Innocent had tears in her eyes. Kaz did not understand—these people were long dead! “Is Barron why you fight your war, Mr. Mervil?”  
  
“I have many reasons, Innocent.” Kaz stared at him—hadn’t Mervil said that before? “Come, we aren’t camping here tonight. There is a shrine still standing on the other side of the lake downhill a little from the village, we will camp there.” He walked the rest of the way to the burnt remains of Barron, his dark cloak following behind him. The others followed in silence and Kaz sighed. He would never understand this strange, cloaked man.  
  
***  
  
They had set up camp a little ways from the Shrine across the lake, as the sun began to set on what remained of Barron Village. The Shrine itself was raised on a white marble plaza with cut stairs leading up to the building itself. In the front were seven equally spaced columns made out of white marble. The capital had two life-like leaves at the ends and each column seemed to spout from a delicately carved pile of leaves made by a master-craftsmen. The pediment supported by the roll of columns were decorated with trees and, in the middle, stood what appeared to be the ancient symbol of the Triforce in pure gold. The sides were white marble walls with tall, arched stained-glass windows, depicting designs of the woods and the gods. The backside, facing the lakes had two columns identical to the ones in the front and another pediment. On that side, the building was open to the lake; however, there was a folding door to keep the elements out. The whole shrine was crowned with a shallow, silver dome, a small, golden Triforce on top.  
  
The whole structure was reflected in the lake by the large, silvery moon that now rose above the silent camp. The fire that was lit hours ago had now dwindled down to a small heap of glowing coals and most of the camp had fallen into a light slumber. They had to be ready to wake in a moment’s notice should Arivis’ Numen choose this night to arrive. Nothing was impossible.  
  
Naomi awoke as the sound of footsteps walking up the marble steps reached her long, pointed ears. She opened her eyes, getting out of sleeping-roll as silently as she could, and stood, tying her rope around her narrow waist and picking up her spear. She heard the Prophet cough, and recalled that he was the one who had taken this watch. His gaze was not on her however, instead, it was preoccupied by a silver spoon that he held in his hand. It had been one of many he had taken from the collection on her ship—a gift from an old friend who almost had the same affinity for spoons as the old man who sat cross-legged in front of the fire. Sometimes, she wondered if they were, in fact, the same person. Both Tap and Kaz were sleeping, although Naomi could tell from the way the Innocent often rolled over and moaned, softly, that her dreams were nightmares. It was no wonder with all that poor woman was being forced to go through—she was little more than a child.  
  
“Before you go running after him,” Yazstromo looked at the empty sleeping-roll of the Warrior. “May I inquire as to how you got such wonderful spoons? They truly are magnificent pieces of art; I haven’t seen anything else like them! Truly magnificent.” She gave him a blank stare. Why was he digging up old secrets like treasure buried away on some forgotten isle in the midst of the Great Sea? “It was a gift from an old friend.” Naomi unconsciously fingered a charm, shaped like a spoon on her necklace.  
  
“I didn’t know there was some else with such a love for cutlery as I.” He smiled, then sighed, his gaze never leaving the spoon. “I suppose I’ll never meet this fellow though, knowing you, he’s already long dead and buried, probably even before I was born. This time, I mean.” The Rito felt the air around her cool as the Prophet’s clear gaze fell upon her. “It is a shame, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
She nodded and quickly turned, walking a ways up the path before turning back to look at the Prophet setting by the fire. He had gone back to looking at the silver spoon as if he wished to bend it with his mind…or learn every inch of it by heart. Knowing him, she mused, it’s the latter. _There’s probably only one spoon-loving idiot born once every hundred or so years…no wonder Yazstromo’s the Prophet. He would never go very far without his silverware, not in twenty-thousand lifetimes._  
  
Naomi continued on her way, flying, instead of walking up the marble staircase and landing on the porch below the pediment in the shadows. For a moment, she studied the double-door. It was made of oak and flat on the top with a tree curved into its frame and two squires, standing on their hind quarters looking up into its branches. They looked like they would jump out of their frame at any moment. She touched one of the silver handles and opened the door on her left—splinting the tree in two.  
  
Moonlight drifted through the old, stained-glass windows filling the Shrine with an eerie blue glow. A great, red carpet with golden frills laid on the marble floor between the rows of wooden pews. The carpet led to the to a polygonal-stage and behind this the Shrine opened onto the moonlit lake. On the stage, a man, dressed in black stood, playing an ancient tune on an old violin. The lament written in memory of the great nation of Crandall and it's long dead people. The nation this man had sought to avenge for forever and a day.  
  
It made her heart weep still. She stood in silent reverence until the last note of the dirge was played and he turned around, his eyes meeting hers. They held no tears, for any tears he had ever cried had dried long ago. They stood there, staring like two immortal statues that had all the time in the world. “Why did you follow me?”  
  
“I remember Crandall,” she answered simply. “It was my nation too.”  
  
“There _is _no land that is your land, Rito.” He said, coolly. “This is my war to fight alone, my vengeance for my people.”  
  
“You weren’t the only survivor of that war, Mervil, or the only one who wants revenge on that murderous swine. You’re a fool, though. All you strive for—no, all you live for is your stupid revenge and your stupid desire to see every last one of your enemy dead. After all is done, you’ll only be a shell of a man with nothing but ‘death’ for his name.”  
  
“Is not that what you have wanted?” He asked. “All those who died long ago, to see those who killed them judged rightly?”  
  
“On your lovely ‘Judgment Isle’. Oh, and I guess, Mr. Judge, that none of should ever have received mercy.” She added every drip of sarcasm she could to her words. “Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to kill every last one of those scum. They were just as human as you.”  
  
“What is the difference between me and them?”  
  
“You’ll live forever, except if someone pierces you with some kind of weapon or poisons you or you get sick—though, I’d think you’ve had every darn sickness known to mortal man by this bloody point. Why, most people would call ya an ‘immortal’ if they knew.” She replied. “Even that doesn’t give you the right to _judge _them. You aren’t Death, even if you go around stalking like he would and pinning the corpses of men on trees for some sin most of this world has forgotten long ago. You still didn’t have the right to do it.”  
  
“Who else will judge them for their crimes? The Goddesses no longer care for those who live in this world and the governments cower like sheep cornered by a pack of wolves. If I did not, there would be none who would receive what they deserve and the land of Hyrule would be paved with the evil workings of vile men and women without respite. I am their judge.”  
  
Naomi stared at him, and, for a moment, swore that there were black wings upon his back. Shaking her head she looked again; they were gone. Only a trick of the moonlight and shadows, she thought. “They still die without your hand. Some—like Kaz—even mend their ways.”  
  
“He has yet to do that.” Mervil said. “His destiny may be of the Redeemed, but he has yet to find redemption.”  
  
“Redemption can’t be achieved by one’s own actions.” She argued and then added, softly. “Or I would’ve gotten it long ago…”  
  
For a few moments, neither spoke. Then, Mervil glanced at the door beyond her and Naomi turned her head. Tap stood there, shock glued to her face as she met Mervil’s ice-cold glare. “Leave, Innocent.”  
  
The girl gave a yelp and _left_, slamming the door behind her in her haste, the sound echoing off the marble walls. _Why does that child have such curious ears? I wouldn’t have been surprised if Kaz had gone eavesdropping with her._  
  
“You were not the one who killed her..." Mervil began, "It was my sword that pierced Selina’s flesh.” She glared at him. “I am sorry.”  
  
He walked away, his long stride bringing him to the tall doors of the Shrine where he placed his good hand on the silver knob. Before he opened it, he turned back to look over the Shrine and then at her as she stood in the shadows, arms crossed. “If you wish to rest any more tonight, I suggest you come back to camp. I have heard it’s good for old bones.” He then opened the door and stalked into the night.  
  
***  
  
Tap waited until both Mervil and Naomi returned to camp before dragging Kaz out of his blankets and a little ways from the camp itself. She didn’t want anyone to hear what she said, even though she was the only one in their party likely to eavesdrop, and they were far enough away from anyone else who may be curious. If those two had any idea what they were up to, Mervil and probably Naomi as well would skin them alive and turn them into Stalfos before letting them off the hook. The sky was already twilight, but she had to know what her ‘partner in crime’ thought.  
  
“Who do you think Selina is?” She asked Kaz as he rubbed his eyes and yawned for good measure. “Kaz!?”  
  
“I don’t know. Naomi mentioned the name before, I think,” he said. “Must’ve been someone really important. Do you think they had a kid?”  
  
“That’s stupid.” Tap gave a faint laugh. “I think they wouldn’t have a kid if they were the last people in—” Kaz was pointing at something, or someone. The Innocent turned around and stared blankly. “Um, good morning Naomi…and um, Mr. Death.”  
  
“Poe *Navi*!” Kaz yelped. “Lots n’ lots of Poe *Navi*.”  
  
“You heard all of it.” Naomi glared. Tap then realized Yazstromo was right behind her. Everything except cheese and bread was already packed.  
  
“Heard all of what?” Yazstromo asked.  
  
“I…” Tap looked away from the flaming, mahogany eyes. “I…was just curious. Kaz made me do it!” She pointed at Kaz and he gasped and shook his head, quickly in denial. “I swear he did, Naomi. I swear it. I’m the Innocent—why would I do something like that?”  
  
Kaz then added with a grin, “An innocent like a wolf with a bloodied mouth.”  
  
Tap rolled her eyes. Wasn’t Kaz her friend? “I’m sorry, Deliverer.”  
  
“Selina was my daughter.” The Rito answered and Tap gasped.  
  
“And Mervil’s too, right?” Kaz asked.  
  
“No, she was not.” The Warrior said. “We must be off; it will be a long while before we reach the Forbidden Woods. Be on your guard.” He looked poised to take out his sword, call the flaming scythe into being, or cast magic at any moment. “Even in the Barron Woods there are dangers.”  
  
Tap shivered and Kaz nodded quickly, she saw both Naomi and Yazstromo ready their weapons. She hoped that these ‘dangers’ would stay far away and wondered how they were going to get make it through. For the first time, the Innocent questioned if this journey into the Lost Woods was a bad idea. How would they make it through the Lost Woods—home to the Deku Shrubs and mythical Kokiri—without a guide?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original note:  
Cya later, guys, and have fun, DL.


	28. Section 6.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Deku Lord
> 
> ~Forever Forgotten: Twisted Paths~

The Deku struggled against the crushing grip of Allanon, but to no avail. He had him pinned against a rock wall with his feet dangling in the air, and the hand on his throat was tightening. Seeing no other options, the Deku slipped the scroll out from under his cloak and handed it to Allanon, who grinned evilly as he snatched it away.  
  
“Perhaps, when next I give you an opportunity at an easier circumstance, you will take it a bit more graciously; it would certainly save you a great deal of suffering. Now, come along.”  
  
It unnerved the Deku, and he quickly realized that he would not be released, but merely spared the agony of a slow, torturous death. Allanon dragged him a short distance to the entrance of the Stone Tower and moved toward the statue, which was clearly made to bear a resemblance to a sitting man whose tongue, made to form a ramp into the exterior tower, covered his unmentionable parts, and up the path through its mouth.  
  
* * *  
  
The group began their trek into the woods; Mervil, remembering having sent the late Railin and Galysses to the group's current destination, wondered what exactly had gone on when they arrived. Surely they had met with somebody before that Allanon character came around to screw with everything. Damned pro-  
  
“Mr. Mervil?” Kaz interrupted his thoughts once again.  
  
“Yes..?” came a rather irritated scowl. To everybody but Kaz, it was clear that Mervil was not in a talking mood, but still the oblivious ex-thief pressed on, ducking under yet another low thorned archway. The forest was littered with them.  
  
“If it's so dangerous around here, why isn't anything threatening around? Ouch!” He had hit his head on another branch, but other than that there was no reply. Yazstromo idly walked at the back of the group, having put away his weapon, and was whistling some bizarre, out-of-tune piece while he fumbled around with one of his new Crandallian forks. Naomi still fluttered about uneasily, spear in hand, just above the canopy of the forest. She was “keeping watch for whatever might come from above” as she had put it, though the suspicion that she just wanted to be away from Mervil was held by everybody. Everybody but Kaz.  
  
* * *  
  
Allanon carried the Deku by the throat as he walked, calmly and coolly, along the path to the entrance of the Stone Tower Temple. It wasn't a particularly difficult task for the Garo to ascend the exterior tower; they had anticipated a much more hazardous environment than a few moving blocks. The group of Garo had been trained on mangled rope bridges over endlessly deep canyons, fighting their colleagues to the death and all the while trying to locate whatever artefact had been hidden on the bridge by a third party. This small team was all that had survived the special course.  
  
They reached the next tier. Allanon hurled the Deku Lord across the gap, before crossing the stone cubes himself. While Allanon effortlessly crossed the four small gaps, one of his team members became rather sidetracked and lost his footing, and all the last they heard of him was a distant scream. As the rest of his small band of Garo followed, he took a moment to observe the artwork of the tower itself.  
  
They were near the upper level, and the top of the Temple entrance was just barely in view; four phallic pillars stood near the entrance, and Allanon believed that most mortals would be rather uncomfortable here, not just because of the pillars, but the atmosphere gave off a rather hollow and despairing feeling. The blocks themselves all depicted the same thing: a sitting man with oddly shaped eyes that had no pupils, and whose tongue appeared to extend to his underside. The walls were masterfully crafted, appearing to be nothing more than a grid of black, endless holes. It was a wonder the Ikanans themselves did not go mad in building this enormous place.  
  
As they moved up to the final level, the entrance to the inner tower came in to view. Allanon couldn't help but think that it bore a heavy resemblance to those “Giant” things he had seen in the mountains, and as he crossed the gap, he noticed a rather large, stone hand not far below. It pointed upward, toward the heavens, and the tip of the finger seemed to be, rather than flat or curved outward as a normal fingertip would be, basin shaped and containing a strange black liquid, as if some sort of ritual were to take place, or perhaps had already taken place. However, there were more pressing matters, and he hurried into the inner tower after his minions.  
  
* * *  
  
“Looks like rain.”  
  
“What?” Kaz was, once again, confused. “There's not a cloud in the sky!”  
  
The strange old man had said some odd things before, but nobody knew what he meant by his rain comment; there were clear skies all around as far as they could see, which wasn't far considering the height of the Barron Woods. A storm was indeed brewing in the distance, though only Yazstromo noticed it, as Naomi had taken to travelling on foot.  
  
“Can't you hear?”  
  
“Hear _what_?” Kaz turned around and began walking backward so that he could talk more directly to Yazstromo.  
  
“Can't you hear the thunder?”  
  
“What thunder? There's no-” And at that, thunder cracked in the distance, dark clouds swarming over the sky that had been clear only moments before. The bandit-wannabe became frightened at this, but he appeared to be the only one to care; Mervil seemed hurried of course, but certainly no more than usual, so Kaz turned to see where he was going.  
  
“Ouch!” He was met with another tree branch, and in his daze stumbled head-on into the back of Mervil, who had stopped rather abruptly; the rest of the group would have kept going had the scenery not changed so dramatically. Mervil spun around, the wrath of Din in his eyes, and knocked Kaz to the ground. Aside from a dull thud as Kaz dropped, the group was silent, staring at the solid wall of trees in front of them; it seemed that over some time they had grown together to form a barrier, but none in the group believed anything other than magic had done it.  
  
A crudely-made wooden sign stood off to the right, and written on it were more Crandallian letters that should have been completely weathered away, but, much like in the cemetery, were not. The group looked expectantly at Mervil, waiting for him to translate for them, but he didn't need to read the warning post; he was well aware of the dangers lurking in the Demon Woods.  
  
* * *  
  
It certainly was a sight. The interior was a large semicircular room lacking a roof, with a door standing in each corner, presumably leading to other parts of the temple. The walls were of sandstone, but nothing that could be found anywhere near Ikana according to the Deku's historic archaeological knowledge. The floor seemed also to be of sandstone, but this variant appeared to originate near the Ikana Valley, and was quite possibly taken from the steep cliff separating Ikana from the rest of Termina.  
  
Directly ahead of Allanon, whose attention was focused in that direction, was a third door in the flat wall, on which was a rather imposing statue of a head with horns and distorted eyes. In fact, now that he thought about it, Allanon realized that the entire face was oddly shaped, as if in tribute to something that looked human, but wasn't, and the door itself appeared to be a mouth. To access it, he would have to cross a trench surrounding a small island, the only purpose of which seemed to be a surface to stand on while one opened the door. Shoving the Deku into the arms of the Garo mob, Allanon carelessly leapt the gap, and readied a spell to destroy the door.  
  
The Deku Lord took a quick look at his captors, who only numbered about eight, and decided to seize the opportunity for himself. They were all standing at attention, save for the two holding him, attentively looking over their surroundings. Then, the Deku dropped his weight, unbalancing the two that were holding him. He quickly slipped his blade from its sheathe and, before he could be restrained by the other six, sliced the neck of one wide open, and cut the other's leg. Unable to breathe and spurting blood from his neck every time he tried, the first of the fallen Garo took to immolating himself. The Deku Lord had been roughly restrained, and the situation calmed in time for the Deku to see the door in front of Allanon being blown apart in a shower of rock and magma.  
  
“Get over here!” Allanon's booming voice echoed throughout the temple, and six of the seven remaining Garo followed hastily. The other attempted to follow, and proceeded with an attempt to jump the trench as the rest of them had, but his leg failed him. Falling into the pit, he let out a low groan, and could only watch the knife wound sizzle as it was chemically burned, imagining what the poison might do. Eventually he fell back, losing first his strength, and then progressively his ability to breathe, his sight, and finally his consciousness as the toxin claimed his nervous system.  
  
* * *  
  
“Shall we?” Mervil's voice shattered the silence, and brought those around him out of their dazed state; nobody could quite believe that, as the sun rose higher, the trees seemed to become darker, and the canopy seemed to expand to blot out the light.  
  
Mervil lifted his right hand, palm facing the forest, as he read from the book held in his left the spell that would part the trees. While nobody could see it, a rune appeared on the palm of his right hand and began to glow, before a beam of light burst forth. Though it landed between two trees, there seemed to be no effect. Mervil calmly lowered his hands, and as he snapped his book shut, the two trees that had been struck began to part from the bottom up, creating a wooden archway through which the group passed.  
  
* * *  
  
Allanon moved quickly into the next room, carelessly obliterating an EyeGore as it attempted to turn around to defend itself. He found himself in a hallway with caged sides but no ceiling, which was situated above a large pool of water. With a flick of his wrist, the water beneath the corridor began to swirl, faster and faster, and faster still, kicking up brine into the faces of all those in the walkway and soaking their clothing through. It began to turn a dark shade of purple, and the transparency of the liquid faded into solid colours, the power of the water breaking away pieces of the grates on the outer parts of the room. Allanon bade the Garo to follow him, at which point he leapt into the vortex, and was promptly succeeded by his team. They were washed under very quickly, but the Deku surfaced again in time to have his skull promptly beaten against the remaining bit of the walkway, at which point he was dragged down into the middle of the maelstrom with rest of the Garo team.  
  
They were deposited in a dark room that had not been seen since the creation of the tower. It was a dark, square room, with walls roughly three metres wide and made of very dark, green-black volcanic glass. The walls themselves were very damp, and three of the four carried two candle holders with black, lit candles in each. The fourth wall, the North, bore three candle holders, in front of which was an alter covered in a purple and red cloth. On the alter rested two candelabras, one on each side, and in the middle of the alter was an inverted symbol of the Shiekah. The ceiling was of black mortar, and the floor, which also seemed to be of black mortar, had a large colourful symbol in the shape of a ring on it. The alter was just a small distance from a ring of candles on the floor, all of fatter, shorter, white variations, and also lit, around the outside of the decorative symbol, and it was here that Allanon stood, over the lifeless shell of Igos du Ikana.  
  
After Allanon removed his cloak, which he draped over the body of Igos, the Deku observed a more shaped form of Allanon. He was well-built, with noticeable muscles on his arms and well built all around. He wore black chainmail over a leather tunic, moderately tight black pants and black shoes. His head was completely covered by a black cloth, which only had a small slit for his eyes to see through, and his hands were covered by black gloves.  
  
The Garo moved into their assigned positions, and the Deku found it interesting that there were only six predetermined places. Perhaps the last two were accounted for elsewhere, he thought. As the incantation began, and Allanon started to dance around within the circle, the Deku wondered how on earth he would get out of this situation. The six other Garo moved into a tight circle around Igos while Allanon leapt to the ceiling and, using his enormous strength, latched onto the flat ceiling with his newly created handholds. The six Garo below proceeded to simultaneously immolate themselves, covering the body of Igos. A small while later, Allanon dropped to the floor, picked up what ashes their were, and placed them on the alter. Drawing a knife, he cut into his own right hand, and let it bleed out for a bit before sprinkling the blood over the ashes and muttering something under his breath.  
  
It was then that a bright white light began to emanate from the centre of the alter where the ashes were, giving the two remaining men in the room the appearance of dissipation and morphing the rest of the room before their very eyes. The colours were first to change, and then the mortar began to warp and refine itself. The black glass of the walls turned white and began to form into bricks, and additional were added to the walls by some odd magic as all needed materials flowed from the white light on the alter, floating to their assigned locations. The alter began to sink into the ground, which was now a grey tile floor, the design having disappeared completely, and the ceiling began to spiral upward, forming into a point. Windows dotted the walls where the candles once were, each made of stained glass, and each was quickly covered by a sandstone slab that shot up from the floor before light was even allowed to enter. A gloomy, red light filled the room, but its source was not entirely clear; it seemed to be more of an aura than a light.  
  
“We must be in a new place; surely we cannot have remained in the Stone Tower...” The Deku voiced his thoughts to nobody in particular, temporarily forgetting the dire situation he had come to find himself in.  
  
He watched in awe as the room's changes finally came to a halt. Allanon, who had been facing the spot where the alter had been the whole time, turned on his heel, revealing that he no longer was the strong figure from before the ritual. Before the Deku Lord and stood a shell of a man, his bones quite visible through his skin, and his face appearing rather aged. Hair fell to the ground around him as he removed his chain-mail, which was so loose that it could now fit two of him inside. He simply let his gloves fall off of his hands, and his formerly tight pants now barely stayed up. As he snapped his fingers, the sandstone in front of the windows shattered, and light beamed in upon his figure, which had become so pale that he nearly blended into the walls. His hands began to burn and sizzle, slowly degrading from the most odd of burns, but still he showed no expression from under his dark hood.  
  
Light was no longer flowing from where the alter once stood, and in its place was an eccentric looking orb, a mixture of blacks, reds, and blues that was transparent and perpetually swirling, but at the same time seemingly non-transparent. It must be rather important, the Deku thought, for Allanon to go through this much trouble. Allanon watched the Deku, and once he realized that it was something behind him that had taken the Deku Lord's attention, he turned and raced for the orb, being effortlessly repelled by some invisible force.  
  
_”Only one...”_ An ominous, echoing voice had called to them from above, and held their attention for the briefest of moments, followed by a prolonged pause in which they both pondered why there must be only one, and what there must be only one of. Allanon broke the silence.  
  
“Well now...” Allanon spoke at length, drawing his scimitars, “it would appear that one of us must leave quite permanently. It's really too bad, I thought you might have some use. I'd thank you for the use of the scroll, but there just isn't time.”  
  
Allanon sharpened his blades on eachother, calmly eyeing his opponent, waiting for an opening, seeking a weak point, anything at all to exploit. The Deku glanced downward as he drew his knife, but by the time his gaze returned, Allanon was upon him, knocking the blade away with a single slash. Dropping one of the scimitars, he grabbed the Deku by the throat and slammed him against the wall, holding his remaining blade to the Deku Lord's neck. He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by a large piece of ceiling that had fallen on him, and though he realized what was to happen, he didn't care.  
  
The force with which the Deku hit the wall was ridiculous; no mere mortal could have done it without amazingly strong magic, because the magically built structure began to collapse around he and Allanon. The ceiling began to fall in as the walls began to crumble, and the only part of the wall not collapsing was the part held up by the Deku's head and upper back. Bits of wall tumbled down upon the two, but still Allanon stood his ground, his pose not faltering for an instant despite his weakened form.  
  
It was overcast outside of what once had been a proud structure before Allanon had gotten to it. It had sat proudly on a hill over a vast, dark green plain, and the white stone appeared quite majestic under the deep blue-grey clouds. Lightning struck the hills far off, and as the building continued to crumble, it began to rain. Droplets fell all around them, pouring onto the now exposed floor and wreckage that lay on it, drizzling down the wall and onto the Deku Lord's face.  
  
Allanon was concentrated completely on his victim; all he needed was to kill the little plant-man, and the orb that was so desired could be his. “**_Look at me!_**” Allanon screamed in his face, desiring, _needing_ the satisfaction of being recognised. He couldn't stand that this insolent shrimp seemed to care more about the rain than his captor, and as the Deku returned his gaze, his blue eyes began to glow. They glowed brighter and brighter in the fastest of fashions, finally turning into a blinding blue light within mere moments, before Allanon could even think about closing his eyes.  
  
“AAAARRRGGGHHH!” Allanon screamed in agony as he reeled back in pain, his hands over both eyes. The cloaked man, now blind, caught his balance on a half erect wall, and began on a rage induced path of destruction, thrashing about and casting spells in every direction in a sore attempt at revenge. Black and purple shock waves of a horrible, lost magic emanated from his palms in every direction, and as the inevitable approached, the Deku could only hold his ground, cursing the day Allanon was born.  
  
And then it stopped. Time came to a complete standstill, a few stray falling blocks from the structure hung in mid air, and a single flash of lightning idled in the distance with no indication of fading. A strong, oaken door appeared next to the combatants, and a young man perhaps in his twenties stepped out . He was a tall, thin man, with slightly pale, blue eyes, a light complexion, and jet black hair that had been dyed to include a tint of blue. He had only once before been seriously injured, as his only large scar was on his face, though he did wear a full-arm glove on his right, and carried a new-looking book with him.  
  
The man spoke not at all, simply strolling to the orb, easily avoiding the force field, and removing it from the stand upon which it sat. He then moved over to Allanon, who was falling over backward from the force of his spells, and slipped the scroll out from his belt. Then, he looked toward the Deku, who was in the middle of speaking the most bilious word he knew, and found that he had made no attempt to defend himself, instead wearing an expression of reluctant acceptance.  
  
The man stepped back and began to pace around the room, stroking his chin and pondering the situation he had just been dealt. While it was extraordinarily lucky that he should find the scroll in the same place as the orb, he could not understand why the hostile man had dragged the other all the way to this place, the Old Sanctuary.  
  
Finally making a decision, he removed the Deku from the situation.  
  
* * *  
  
The trees quickly resumed their positions once the group had passed through; they seemed almost... _annoyed_ at having been separated in such a harsh manner. The group stood and watched for a moment as it happened. Yazstromo, being the first to lose interest, turned to see the forest being overcome with a haze that they had not witnessed upon their initial venture inside.  
  
“Fascinating.” The old man merely stood there, touching his beard a bit with his left index finger, as Mervil turned to see what had caught the Prophet's attention. After letting out a stream of curses under his breath, he instructed the group to ready their weapons. Nothing good could come from that kind of fog, he believed.  
  
“What's going on?” The Innocent's inquiry was shaken, but met only with a blank stare from Mervil as a ring of fire that seemed detached from reality encircled the group. The Warrior summoned his scythe as a pair of Garo dropped from the trees. Naomi took flight, attempting to summon the light magic she knew would make short work of these two, but failing; the ominous power of the Lost Woods seemed to completely suppress her own. By the time she realized that nothing was happening, Yazstromo had vanished, Tap had an arrow nocked and drawn, Kaz had drawn Railin's dagger, and the Garo had taken off toward opposite sides of the group.  
  
The first took a slash at Tap, whose bow was knocked deep into the woods; there would be no finding it, not here. It was not known how the Demon Woods rearranged itself, except to those few at their destination. She drew her dagger as Kaz ran to help her, but by the time he arrived her blade had already blocked a second blow from the Hood and slashed thrice at where its heart would. Meanwhile, Mervil dispatched of the second Garo, a flick of his wrist sending the scythe seven different ways into the Garo's body and not leaving a scratch. The two recoiled; with their last bit of strength, they immolated themselves, fulfilling their pact to a forgotten nation.  
  
Everybody reassembled, save for Yazstromo who had gone off into the Lost Woods somewhere, leaving the end of a newly summoned ball of string tied to a tree branch. The group stayed there a while, making sure nothing too horrible had gone wrong, but it had.  
  
“Uhh, Naomi? Mervil? We've run completely out of food.” The Innocent, when met with their looks of surprise, held up two halves of their provision bag held together only by the back strap.  
  
“So the bag's been cut, the contents should still be fine, shouldn't they?” However, after Naomi had asked, Tap reached into the bag, and pulled out three quarters of a loaf of bread that had turned blacker than Mervil's heart.  
  
“Would _you_ trust anything cut by a Garo's blade?”  
  
Yazstromo arrived back at that moment, carrying an armful of mushrooms whose colour schemes looked to be straight out of a child's imagination, except that the colours remained rather dark. He gave a couple to everybody, all of whom were grateful that the old man had risked eternal wandering for their benefit, though Naomi gave him a club on the head with the butt of her spear for making her worry. As they were about to dig in, a voice called to them.  
  
_I wouldn't eat those if I were you, friends..._ The trailing voice of Railin entered their ears, and Kaz, in the most shock, once again drew the dead bandit's knife and began running around in a frenzy.  
  
“Who said that? Stop playing games and show yourself!” He continued to look around, and Railin's ghost faded into existence behind him. The apparition stood there in the same clothes he was buried in; the dirt still clung to his clothes and face, though everything about him was now white and spectral-looking. He raised a lantern in his right hand and motioned for his friends to follow, which they did with all haste.  
  
* * *  
  
“...it!” The Deku Lord, braced for an impact that would not come, realized he was no longer in the strange white room, but on the outskirts of a familiar looking village in a forest he knew well.  
  
He stood on slightly raised pentagonally shaped cement platform that had a rather fancy trim on the sides and the Forest symbol embossed in the centre. Looking out at the village, he saw five log huts built around trees in a U formation, the two on the ends with a second story built a bit above them, connected by a rope ladder leading out of the roof of the ground floor. All five held decorative vines strung between each other, and each had two lanterns hanging on either side of the doors. The building second from the right was a medical station, or at least that was what it appeared to be; a large red cross was painted on the roof. The building second from the left was a Forest Potions shop. The Deku was familiar with these; they had after all, been introduced by him from his home land. The title worked well in telling the stores contents, as it carried food, several herbal potions with special qualities even _he_ did not know the extent of, and several forest survival items such as Deku Nuts and Deku Sticks. The building in the centre of the set up was a store labelled “Foreign Goods,” but what this store didn't tell you was that the good were also stolen from those foreign lands. You could find nearly anything here, except the extremely rare items that the storekeeper wouldn't risk his neck to go and get; he certainly wouldn't pay somebody else their ridiculous fee if he wasn't willing to get the item himself. There was only one of these in all of Hyrule that the Deku Lord knew of, but instead he headed to the Forest Potions shop.  
  
Inside, he found a Kokiri behind the counter. The man was about the same size as the Deku, and wore the traditional Kokiri clothing plus and armband on his left arm which hosted the Deku symbol, and a small blue earring in his right ear. When he recognised who had walked in, the Kokiri moved his foot and stepped on some obscure mechanism, opening a trap door to the Deku's right with stairs leading down to his home away from his other Hyrulean home. Tossing the man a red rupee, he proceeded down to the study, lit the lantern on the corner of his desk as he sat down, and began to read from his many tomes about the Shadow Temple.  
  
* * *  
  
As they walked along in the forest, Kaz couldn't help but wonder why Railin was here. Why in Hyrule would a spirit come back from the grave, and in the Lost Woods no less?  
  
_The Lost Woods is where spirits wander for eternity if something went wrong or unfinished in their lifetime; it's not so bad, to be honest, but if you prefer something more than darkness, you'll not want to come here. Rarely are we given the opportunity for redemption, and those who get it do not usually succeed._ It was as if the ghost of his friend had read his mind. Kaz hoped that Railin would make it out some day, and also that he would not meet the same fate himself. To this Railin smiled in a sad kind of way, and as they approached their destination he began to fade from existence.  
  
Standing near the Forest pedestal, Mervil gave out his instructions to the group. “We'll meet back here in a bit. Yazstromo, try to get some information from that Forest Potions store, while I search the Foreign Goods shop. The rest of you are to get medical attention; Naomi, listen around in there for any gossip.”  
  
Mervil made his way into the shop, giving nothing more than a stare to the shop keeper, a normally sized Deku standing on a platform in the traditional Deku garb, who only returned his stare with a blank expression.  
  
“Beside all of this junk-”  
  
“Junk!?”  
  
“-what have you got to offer? I need a guide out of the Lost Woods. Do you have any Poes in stock?”  
  
“I got no Poes. Try over there” The Deku motioned to the Forest Potions shop, and was met with a quick nod from Mervil before the Warrior left. The group reassembled at the Forest pedestal, though Yazstromo was strangely missing. Mervil led them over to the Forest Potions shop. Inside, he found Yazstromo arguing with the shopkeeper over the colour of Deku Nuts.  
  
“I need a guide out of these Woods; have you got any Poes?” The shopkeeper looked then at Mervil and shook his head. Flicking him a silver rupee, Mervil asked again, at which point the man behind the counter stepped on the switch mechanism. Mervil stopped for a moment, noticing that the old man was now looting his pockets for enough valuables to pay for a Zoran Boomerang; he decided to let Yazstromo be and led the rest of the group down the stairs.  
  
Opening the study door, the four stepped inside, against the wishes of the Deku behind the desk.  
  
“What the hell is going on here? Who are you people?”  
  
“We're looking for a guide out of the forest, and your man upstairs sold you out?”  
  
“For how much?”  
  
“Two hundred.”  
  
“Fair enough. You must want a guide very badly for that kind of loot, but why not stick around? These woods are very enjoyable if you have the right personality; you, in fact, look like you would be well suited to an eternity in the Lost Woods.”  
  
Mervil was losing his patience. “I haven't the time for your dark humour. You are apparently an excellent guide, or so we hear from your assistant's head rattling about.” To this, the Deku gave a light chuckle.  
  
“Yes, well,these things do have their prices; what can you possibly offer me? I certainly don't need money, weapons, or armour; I haven't a need for anything very common, really. Perhaps I should just have you lot thrown out now.”  
  
“How about a magical tithe?” At that, Deku perked up; Mervil had done a good job in attracting his attention.  
  
“...how much?”  
  
“A seed's worth.”  
  
Kaz snickered. “A seed? What the hell's that going to do? You _really_ know how to bargain, Mr. Warrior.” The Deku, however, was not so amused, nor were Tap and Naomi.  
  
“Any forest creature such as I, my dear half-wit friend, knows the value of a seed. Their value goes unmatched in these parts where seeds are the axis upon which our being revolves. Now, I don't believe I ever caught your name, tall stranger.” He stood, looking at the Warrior.  
  
“You can call me Mervil, if you must.”  
  
“Well, Mervil,” the Deku said, taking up his lantern, “you've got yourself a deal.”


	29. Section 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> ~Section Seven~
> 
> ~Forever Forgotten: Dies Irae~

This was familiar. It always happened; there really was no denying it, always on cue. The dream was simple. He was lost among a mist so thick, it was as if it were eternal and never to lift. Shadows flitted past him; whispers absorbed his ears with harsh, inaudible tongues. And then in the far reaches of sight, that's where he stood, so far away, so close, it was impossible to tell. Glowing red eyes drifted through the fog that was consuming him. A deep and guttural laugh followed perfectly in-tune with his minions.  
  
“Such petty tricks... They send you with hopes that you could overpower _me_? How pathetic.” He laughed again and they all followed their master in copious reply.  
  
Mervil’s vision panned out as his slipping conscious gripped reality once more. A lavishly decorated circular room spread beyond the reaches of his position. In the centre stood a good three dozen figures, all hooded and acting overtly auspicious. They had the right, he had to sorely admit. Around him his comrades were slumped forward, all held simply by chains and shackles to the cracked and blood spattered walls, just as he was. Several others had been claimed, laying as blackened or burst corpses in the array in which they tried to siege _him_.  
  
Trying to mourn, Mervil was cut short both by the inescapable danger beyond him and the whimpers of the prisoners far beyond that. In the darkness of the melted shut iron archway, huddled six persons, all of varying age and size. Some were crying and some were trying not to scream. There were twenty others that fell as silent corpses among them.  
  
“This Tower has been mine since this feeble ‘war’ started; it’s amusing that a village that has dealt with the likes of the Demon race would believe a group of men could take it.” Arivis smiled from under his black cloak, the white slash of a mouth covering cheek to cheek. “Of men and a sad little sorcerer.” He lifted his arm daintily in Mervil’s direction, altering the angle of his head as if to mock his existence.  
  
“These people are innocent, they did not oppose you.” The sorcerer spoke darkly, trying not to meet the haunting red stare of the enemy. “Crandall has factions of soldiers and wizards for a purpose, they are the fodder you seek, not the villagers, especially not the children.”  
  
Arivis laughed and approached, the Numen surrounding him parted to either side. “They may not draw the ‘blood’ of my followers, but they still defy my rightful rule of this kingdom, this filthy welt you all cling so loyally to. I found it my sole duty to make sure anyone who-,”  
  
“How can you justify slaughtering those who are the smallest threat to your reign?” Mervil tugged at the chains but they only tightened around his wrists and tore into his skin. These last heaves made him feel like his arms were going to tear free and leave him flailing on the black carpet below.  
  
“You people and your armies are no threat to me!” The Demon leapt up onto the table, knocking the few standing candelabra to the floor. Tipping Mervil’s face upward he forced him to meet his gaze. “Whoever you are, you have quite the gusto to speak such harsh and laughable words to me. It’s more than apparent that you fancy yourself the leader of this band. And I have to ask...” He tapped at Mervil’s head and smiled wider. “Is this really the smartest thing you ever did?”  
  
More mocking laughter escaped the drones that stood idly by, looking slightly upward at their master and his newest associate. The torches set up by Arivis and his men cast shadows across everyone’s faces and barely illuminated his hostages from the village across the sea. For five months the Demon had named the Bronze Construct his base and had pillaged people from the Alvz Port far across the desert expanse. Mervil and his three dozen soldiers had been assigned to investigate the most recent abduction and try to free the innocents plucked during the previous night.  
  
All that was left was him. It was here, staring into the eyes of the one creature that united the kingdom in hatred, that he realized those slumped at the walls had been shot by the headless arrows of the Numen. Thin trails of blood curved the landscape of their foreheads and down into pools on the floor. For now, the sorcerer was the only rebel alive.  
  
“I would be a fool to do otherwise, to sit and let this kingdom-,”  
  
“Say no more.” Arivis slammed him up into the stone wall harder than any man could have; it took the breath straight from his lungs. A flickering of his eyes turned up to meet his again as his touch burned into the exposed flesh of his chest. Mervil tightened his fists together and bore the brunt of the pain, his eyes unwavering in their stare. “This kingdom is mine, if it were not the fate the Gods bestowed me, I would have been defeated by now. And as far as I can tell...” He threw his arms wide, pulling in the bloody sights of the Construct’s highest chamber as a symbol of his twisted glory. “That’s the farthest thing from happening.”  
  
“You say you want me to spare the innocent people from my ‘wrath’? If I weren’t so sick of your race’s tendency to betray one another and despoil the land on which they feed and procreate, I’d let them join me. But you, sorcerer, your choice to be ignorant of the realities of my power, the blind courage your men showed me, although honourable, means nothing in the world.” The Demon turned his back on him, the back of his cloak displaying an odd and somewhat familiar symbol. It was the mark he placed at every scene that he raided or placed on the corpses he accumulated.  
  
Mervil struggled again against his imprisonment, trying to move his hand in just the right motion. If he were able to call upon the little strength he had left, he might be able to do something. But what could he do? A feeble two year Caster, and a fairly average one at that, against a Demon? At least it would be better dying in some kind of combat than by hanging on a wall waiting for the inevitable.  
  
“When the last stronghold falls, Crandall Castle, I will claim what is rightfully mine. Those who want to survive will have to submit fealty or suffer the consequence of death.” Arivis’s cloak tugged as if hiding something within the fabric. “This brings me to asking the burning question I already know the answer to. If you swear yourself to me, you can at least outlast this sorry event. Maybe then you can even take those poor souls in the shadows.”  
  
With the agility of a dancer the Demon leapt from the table and returned to his buzzing Numen. He turned and opened his arms like waiting for a child and snickered. One of them began to phase in consistency, and to Mervil’s shock, a blade protruded from his elbow. “It really isn’t all that bad, Sorcerer. To be on the side of victory, it is how we are meant to survive. To War among the world and to feast of its bounties. When a stronger force arrives we are blotted out by our destiny. It is simply time for Crandall to fall to its knees. Accept it.”  
  
“No, joining you would be a worse fate than death, Demon. I will not betray my kingdom or my friends you have mindlessly slaughtered.” Mervil tried to look as ferocious as he could but knew it only appeared like he was straining to see something in the distance. In fact, he was.  
  
“Oh please, here there is no sense of loyalty or honour. There is the strong,” Arivis pointed at himself and then forward and behind him, “and the weak. I’m offering you the only chance you have at survival. The only-,”  
  
The Demon was cut off as the chains around Mervil’s right hand snapped free of the wall with the sound of cannon fire. Sparks and mortar flew across the carpet and a searing flame shot out from his palm, blasting Arivis square in the chest. Melting the other chain from the wall, the Sorcerer leapt down into the centre of the room, immediately swarmed by the hissing sounds of the spirits around him. Using the hot iron chains dangling from his shackles as his only defence, he swung around blindly hearing the satisfying screams of the enemy rise to the rafters.  
  
Quickly regaining his sense, Arivis’s look of surprise changed to dripping scorn. Mervil kicked off from the ground and flung all his weight behind his right arm, watching the white chains slash into the Demon. Or at least the space he had been in. Without warning, Arivis’s image flickered back into reality and smashed his fist into the rebel, sending him crashing down across the carpet. Numen remains fluttered down like snow as the form of the Fallen blotted out the torches that he could see.  
  
Reaching down, Arivis clotted up Mervil’s cloak and pulled him back to his feet. “Not quite the flashiest performance. But it did surprise me that you could cast in such a dire situation as this. Though, I suppose you answered me quite well. No matter.” The sorcerer found his feet and hands bound by a twisting black substance based from the floor. Even his bare hands were covered to make sure there were no other chances for him to fire off another volley of magic.  
  
“I give you people the chance to survive and what do you do? You fight back. I offered you the chance to take your poor hostages away from here.”  
  
“I’m sure you did, you probably would have ordered our heads the moment we walked outside the front gates!” Mervil spat and soon found his body wrapped in the same spell in attempts to stop him from squirming in defiance.  
  
The Demon laughed his queer echoing laugh and cocked his head playfully. “Well, you’ve got me there. I guess you still have a bit inside that odd little head of yours. What really makes my day is the fact that you really thought you could do _anything_ to me. You are laden with this damned sickness of devotion to a country that’s already dead! What are a few more lambs?”  
  
“Don’t you touch them!”  
  
“And what are you going to do about it, Mervil, is it?” A moment passed and Mervil tried to move to no avail, groaning in anger and defeat. “Exactly.” It was now he got another startle, Arivis turned back to the hostages and a pair of leathery wings burst from the back of his cloak, sending tattered cloth fluttering into the torches as if controlled by magic. Darting ahead he snapped his fingers and the remainder of the lights came to life, showing that those left behind were all mere children.  
  
“Ah, the lifeblood of generations so sadly gone by.” Reaching down he plucked a small boy who was too afraid to fight back or say a word in the claws of Crandall’s devil. “One by one, until every...” Arivis plunged his sword arm into the boy’s gut and ripped through cleanly, flicking blood in every direction. He dropped the child and went to another, some of them fled and others remained planted in fear. “Single rebel is felled. It is my right to own these lands, and it is my right to destroy you trespassers.” He tilted his head over his shoulder and flashed another brilliant smile.  
  
“Stop me, Sorcerer, go ahead. If I am a force that can be dealt with, then why not find the one responsible for my demise?” It was a seven year old girl this time, her neck split in half with one clean swipe, falling to the floor in shambles. “I am not a standard to hold your definition of villainy against, I am not a man, I have no morals. Children are conniving little sacs that can make or break the future; I show no mercy to the defenceless.” Mervil could only watch as a third hostage was skewered by the Demon’s arm, the body thrown like worthless litter to the carpet to rot. “If it is in my best interest, then death will meet with my enemy. Soldiers, Mages, Sorcerers, and Kings have tried to put an end to me and I survive!”  
  
Arivis eyed at the three remaining children, two boys and a girl in her youth looked back at him with tears in their eyes and someone else’s blood across their faces. “The only way I will stop my conquest is when someone rises from this sad excuse for a world and claims my body. Do you think you’re going to do it? To me, you are just another human, one more bloodied corpse on my road to victory. Compassion is a virtue for the poor and the weak. It is the malevolent that rule the world.” Leaning forward he stroked at the girl’s chin, her blue eyes darted away from his and her face quivered oddly trying to hold back the tears. “A wonder, a Rito half-breed this far from home, you are a queer looking sight. That Naomi surely is -,” The Sorcerer felt the blood rush from his face.  
  
“Selina, no!” Mervil reacted violently, nearly breaking from his restraints only to feel the spell clamp down painfully on his appendages. “Leave her alone, you bastard!” It was at the outburst that the Demon’s wings became taut and he pulled himself upright quickly.  
  
“My, my, now this is delicious.” Arivis laughed and yanked the girl away from the floor and into the air, shaking her in Mervil’s direction. She let out a terrible cry and he laughed viciously. “You know this little abomination? I never would have guessed the little rat you are to be such a _gentleman_. Nor would I believe Naomi to have such pathetic time on her hands to prance around with your kind.” Selina squirmed in the tight grasp of her captor, her frail body appeared more mannequin like than human.  
  
“Let her go! Please!” The Sorcerer gave up fighting the overpowering binding spell, letting his body slump forward in defeat. His pleads echoed back in his ears, hauntingly sad rather than defiant.  
  
Taking a few steps forward, Arivis stopped only two meters from his adult prisoner. His smile was wide, his taunts with the girl in his hand ceased and she too seemed to stop struggling. “I must say, that however much you will hate me for this, I will gain so much more enjoyment from. If you want her, come take her.” Laughing, he brought his blade up to her pale neck. Arivis waited for an attack that could not happen and glared darkly. “A pity you can’t.”  
  
A sickening sound of ripping flesh filled the chamber; Selina’s blue eyes met Mervil’s horrified expression and lost focus. Arivis barked with amusement, grinding the spire down from her neck and through her chest, tearing free with a satisfying jerk. The Sorcerer watched the girl fall to the carpet at the Demon’s feet, her blood sprayed around him in a half-moon. The rage he felt well in him was like nothing he had ever felt before.  
  
The restraints around his arms snapped and a large blast of black fire escaped from Mervil’s right palm, engorging the Numen that had rushed to shield their Master. “You monster!” A sword appeared in his hand covered in the same odd flames, casting an ominous glow on his contorted face. The Sorcerer covered the short ground between them, hacking into exposed flesh of his foe, only to watch him wrap the leathery wings around his body and teleport out of his reach.  
  
“Love is such a fickle and disastrous thing, wouldn’t you agree? Making one weak and foolhardy.” He dangled from the chandelier above and stretched as if bored, watching the life from Mervil drip away as he gazed down at the mutilated girl. “Just think of it this way, she didn’t have to watch her poor father meet an untimely end. She didn’t get to watch me wipe this pathetic excuse of a country off the map. She was spared of something much worse.”  
  
The Sorcerer gazed directly above him with an infuriated expression, raising his sword up high. A blast of dark magic exploded upward and shattered the chandelier, the crystal falling down like rain. Arivis blinked back into existence and unsuccessfully pulled an uppercut, slicing through Mervil’s cloak and nothing more. Spinning on one heel, the Demon fired a single shot of bright red magic, crashing into his opponent’s chest and sending him flying back against the wall.  
  
Red electricity flowed through his body, paralyzing Mervil where he was spread across the bloodied walls. The pain raced and throttled every inch of his being, causing him to roar in agony. Unable to move his body, his anger bottled.  
  
“Fight as you might, you are a mere mortal, Sorcerer.” Arivis stepped casually forward, kicking Selina’s limp body to the side, bending down to meet faces. “You surprised me there, it seems you’ve been a bad boy and learned some dark magic. It was weak, I assure you, but still impressive for such an amateur as yourself.” Cackling, he opened his mouth wide and continued to talk, his lips never moving. “So what will you fight for now? Crandall? The girl? My head? All of the above?”  
  
“You...” Mervil struggled to speak, his eyes wide open and darting every which way.  
  
“What? What do you want to say?” Arivis smiled wider, grabbing the clean-shaven face of his adversary in his spare hand, turning his head side to side.  
  
“You’ll regret this, I swear if it’s the last thing I-,” In a quick flash of pain, Mervil’s head was smashed up against the wall behind him; he could feel blood trickle down his neck. Slowly the Demon’s face came back into focus.  
  
“I could end your pathetic life here if I wanted. Can you even picture yourself stopping a force such as me? People have tried; people a lot stronger than you. Your anger means nothing to me, if you think power incited by rage can aid you in the fight, well...” He looked around him in an overdramatic fashion. “It hasn’t worked so far.”  
  
Mervil stared at the body of Naomi’s daughter, her eyes frozen in fear as he assumed his were. It was too late, he couldn’t do anything, and he was going to die. Crandall was going to die...  
  
“I’m letting you live.” The words sounded farther away than they should have been, as if the Sorcerer’s body was already shutting down in defeat. He could feel his face freed and it contort in an almost wanted confusion. “You are worth more to me alive than dead, completely for my entertainment. As I know you humans, and I know you well, it won’t be long until you give up on your vengeance and end your existence. Either way...”  
  
The arm-blade rose up in between the two of them. “I have a reputation to live up to, and you have something I want. Your sorrow, your hatred, I want you to remember and cry out what happens when you defy the new God, Arivis. Remember how you could not save the last dear thing in your life, remember how you lost your friends, how all this cause was for nothing. You will remember me forever, never to forget.”  
  
A pain like no other shot down across Mervil’s face, a burning and biting sensation. The Demon’s sword tore into his face, ripping through the flesh and scrapping across the bone, down from his forehead to his shoulder. Cackling laughter screamed into his ears as he cried out for mercy, damning red eyes drifting away into the darkness of his slowly whittling consciousness. His blood was everywhere.  
  
Mervil awoke to the dead of night, the pain still resonating down his face. He refused to comfort it.  
  
Why was this his most active time of day, it felt close to the edge of a pathetic cliché. The lightest touch of smoke hung onto the rustling breeze, with such a plant population in the centre of these woods, it was nearly impossible to see in the dark. And their fire was out. Why did this feel so familiar, a desolate and dead, lonesome feeling? It was only his generic outlook.  
  
Mervil snapped up a flame in the middle of his palm, it flashed black for only the first second of birth and changed to a cool blue. Ever since the events of those nights ago, he hadn’t been feeling the same; the run-in with Arivis was bad enough the first time, but all of that hard work spoiled in mere minutes... He was beginning to remember the rage he had felt those millennia ago. When he was far less broken.  
  
And from those memories came that sinking feeling of the past, it appeared like the world was to bear those events for eternity. First and foremost, Arivis had returned, bringing with him the stench of death and an inescapable grip of merciless power... And then the sight of that troublesome Garo from ages gone by...  
  
“You don’t seem to be too worried.”  
  
Mervil turned at the sound of another voice, one queer and unusual compared to the usual fare he heard spewed from Yazstromo’s insight, Kaz’s whining, or Naomi’s belittling. “Oh, it’s you. I was just thinking about you.”  
  
“Well that’s more than a shy bit disturbing.” The penetrating eyes of the Deku Lord swept through the darkness and fell upon the same dazzling blue flame in Mervil’s hand. “Your group has such a large burden, and yet you are still taking your time forward through this Wood. If what your fellows have told me, a lot of things have been happening in the outside world since my... vacation.”  
  
“Yes, there certainly has been.” The Wanderer raised his hand and a circle of flame appeared above their heads, barely illuminating the shuddering piles of their comrades fast asleep. “And from what I can understand from your hesitation... your vacation was filled with a bit more excitement than you bargained for.” A strange look was shot his way and Mervil smirked, bowing his head.  
  
“I’d expect it to be you.”  
  
“What?” The Deku cocked his head to the side and narrowed his gaze on the shadow covered face of his tourist.  
  
Pulling away from the group, the Warrior strayed to the very edge of where they had nicely come out of before sunset, pulling the cloak around his throat as if he were cold. “You are the last one, at least the last one spoken of.”  
  
“What are you talking about? I was simply just travelling in the Southern Sw-,”  
  
Mervil’s eyes darted to him and he grinned something that appeared more malevolent than not. “I knew it was you. All these years and I’ve found you again. I was right in entrusting them to you those months past.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?” Stepping back, the Deku Lord moved from the ill-coloured circle of light, a strange feeling sending chills up his spine. He racked his brain for some kind of correlation between this oddball group and something else that happened to him prior. The result made him feel blind and weary. And then he suddenly remembered, although hazy, the fact that he knew of this band long before meeting them. “You’re him aren’t you?”  
  
“That depends on what you were told. It was a far cry to trust you of the entire Deku race, but I had expected that I could. Galysses and Railin were in the hands of the Inquisitor as I had hoped.”  
  
“The what?” Now this was interesting. Strange how everything seemed to just happen to him, maybe he wasn’t quite as alone as he had once thought.  
  
“You are part of us, our mission.” Mervil approached again from his original position, the flame illuminating the tired wrinkles of his face. “The Inquisitor may not be vital, but without you our Compass would not have returned to us.” For a moment he paused, a line forming across his brow like something troubled him. “And ultimately lost him.”  
  
“The bumbling Hylian and Stalfos... I had just expected it was a chance meeting.”  
  
“Well, it was. But I took the chance, Galysses's overachieving head got him into a mess and ultimately entangled you with is. Like the workings of a clock, it appears every event has been slowly coming down to now. As much as the others may not agree,” a rustling in the woods drew his attention away from the staring eyes of the Deku Lord. “Our losses were bound to happen.”  
  
A sigh came out from the surroundings, someone rolled over toward them. If they were eavesdropping it wouldn’t matter. If they knew the outcome that was possible, that loomed over them...  
  
“I’m still a bit... off about _why_ I’m even beyond the importance as a compass to you all. I didn’t ask for any of this.”  
  
“Nor does anyone with the burden of life and death. You were there when Allanon first made his power known, in Ikana. You wouldn’t have remembered me, I returned you to this time, the place where you belonged. And I know more likely than not, you saw _it _.” Suddenly the form and composure of Mervil changed, a dark expression covered his scarred face and his scowl became even more so. “I must call upon you to not mention it to anyone.”  
  
“Don’t worry. I didn’t sign up for this and my actions aren’t mandatory. As much as I would like to help, after you pay me, we will not cross paths again. Such is the life of a capitalist.”  
  
The Warrior laughed, the flame in his hand starting to reach higher into the darkness. “You are what pushes us forward, Inquisitor. You are the one who learns both through questioning and experience. As much as you won’t like it, the whims of Fate will draw you wherever they please.”  
  
All light disappeared as Mervil closed his palm, absorbed into the darkness of the night. The Deku Lord was left standing among the shambles of what would decide something so much larger than them all. He felt a strange sense of pity; he would deal with that guilt later.  
  
*  
  
The next morning poured pale green light in and among the trees. Bronze trunks glistened in the frost and small traces of red could be seen lacing through the leaves. It appeared that Arivis was letting autumn finally descend upon Hyrule. Mervil supposed it was the proper thing to do, let everything else that could not fear death, rot away upon the winds of winter. He had done the others a favour and started their fire the night previous to keep them from waking up to the cold, as much as the act pained him. Like it or not, he would need most of them.  
  
He had shakily slept thanks to the nightmare, the details suppressed to the point that he nearly had forgotten about them. But this time, the pain he felt, that would keep with him for eternity. The walls around his temperament seemed to be failing.  
  
“At sunset we should be beyond the Spell of the Lost Woods.” The night’s previous companion erupted from a balcony of branches, gliding softly to the hardened earth below. “From there we part and I grant you every merit of luck and strength. You won’t be able to convince me to come along.”  
  
Mervil sighed, interrupted from peace again. When would they ever learn the concept of being left alone?  
  
“You also might want to be wary of that Kaz fellow. The rustling in the brush, that was him spying on us, well, specifically you I might imagine. He seems to pay special heed and attention to you most of all, well, beyond the girl in red.”  
  
“I should have guessed.” A chilly wind brushed Mervil’s face, numbing his gaunt features. “By now he has told the others.”  
  
“I don’t understand the secrecy behind that Orb, if this Demon is so intent on acquiring it, shouldn’t the others know of its potential, its worth?”  
  
“I have seen powerful creatures, tyrants, and Kings try to attain that power. Believe me; either the temptation or its overbearing nature will make them scatter.” Mervil gazed across the camp at the shuddering forms of the others; it showed the vulnerability they all shared. They were all alive. To think such a burden would fall to them, shared among words older than their ancestors and as old as time.  
  
Whatever feeling he continued to express about them, Mervil threw it away, extra baggage that would only prove to weaken him. He lost all desire for interactions a long time ago. “They will be intent on knowing, but they simply cannot, not when running away would spell disaster.”  
  
“Should we wake them up then?” The Deku Lord closed one eye, almost making a mocking expression at Mervil’s sober tone. “We still have a bit of a trek ahead of us, when we enter Kokiri I believe you’ll be able to continue forward.”  
  
The Warrior growled loudly, his mood abruptly charged with anger. “Get up; I know you’re all awake!”  
  
“Oh, don’t be such a bother!” Yazstromo’s whimsical voice faintly carried over as his cap suddenly popped up from the far corner of the encampment. “It’s hard to sleep when all night long we can hear you skulking about the leaves, it’s almost enough to drive you batty.” Slowly raising himself up, the Prophet yawned, rubbing sand from his eyes and snapping his back in what sounded like the most painful way possible.  
  
“So you really think we’d run away after all we’ve been through.” The sound of the Rito’s voice from above made Mervil’s brow curve angrily and his knuckles turn white. Naomi drifted down from the trees with a look that shared both disappointment and subsided fury. “We’ve had friends die and innocent people slaughtered while we’ve tried to fix the damage Arivis has caused. Just because we get to the final stretch does not mean we will give up.”  
  
There was a bit of a giggle in behind the short moment. The morning chill seemed to grow, but by now they had already discovered why things seemed to get uncomfortable in lapses like this.  
  
“Besides, I’m pretty sure you already knew I know what it is Arivis is after, what it is we are trying to keep from his possession.” Tracing the hardened soil with his staff, Yazstromo tugged at his beard, his eyes twinkling in that same fashion that showed he was feeling overtly clever. “Say that three times fast.”  
  
Cold air traced in from the North, be it from Hyrule or somehow Mervil who happened to be standing in roughly the correct bearing. A suspicious glare was shot in the Prophet’s direction who merely mocked a sneer in return. “I suppose that I cannot put all my faith in you to keep what is unnecessary knowledge as such, Yazstromo.”  
  
Tap giggled suddenly from her mat, Kaz had been moving his hands in the air to follow the Warrior’s slick speech. She quickly covered her mouth at the outburst and looked away from the scene.  
  
“Well, I must say, that was a surprise.” Moving steadily across the camp, Yazstromo jabbed his foot into Kaz’s back, making him stumble forward into the dirt and moan in disappointed agony. “Have you begun to grow some kind of sentiment for us? First you warn Tap and her two bandit friends to flee when we made landfall in Alvz, then you nearly sacrifice yourself for my wellbeing. Now you seem like you don’t want to go alone in the face of the Demon. Or am I getting any of this right?”  
  
“We’re losing daylight, spare the discussion for some other manageable time. I’m a busy Deku you know.” Like clockwork their guide had interrupted the exchange, either through seeing what it could cause or merely needed to do something more important according to his definition. Naomi pivoted around and yanked her satchel from the ground, soon after tossing the Wanderer’s his.  
  
“Don’t lollygag any more, you two!” This was the first time she had snapped at the Innocent and bandit, their shared look of surprise sought out to quickly gather their belongings.  
  
The Deku Lord closed his blue eyes and seemed to be randomly choosing among the four paths that surrounded them. Shrubbery tickled at their thighs as the morning Sun managed a few stray strands between the branches. “This way now. Follow in a linear fashion; we wouldn’t want any of you getting lost now, would we?”  
  
“You’d probably get a dock in pay.” Yazstromo parted Kaz from Mervil’s back and took his spot in line, Naomi towering above him, rigid in the green light. She was acting peculiar, so was Mervil, he’d have to get to the bottom of it somehow. He tugged at the tattered cloak ahead of him. Swivelling slowly and craning his neck in Yazstromo’s general direction, Mervil’s bright blue eyes glowered for an answer. “We’ll finish our talk later.” The old man winked and pushed the Warrior ahead into the darkness of the log.  
  
*  
  
No one shared words. For what seemed hours of walking, stopping, and sudden changes in direction, even Kaz had stopped trying to entertain Tap as he usually had. Their food rations were all but depleted. Each had an apple and a slice of bread to their name. Mervil had not eaten for days and had given his food away to each of them as time went by, likely fuelling their lack of concern for watching their personal wares.  
  
“This way.” As the Deku Lord continued to direct them through the Lost Woods they noticed that things were beginning to age and die out. Light was soon dissipating to an obscene trickle, not from the dense forest but from the sky above.  
  
“Well, this is a bit... unordinary.” Naomi spoke, her stance seemingly ready to strike, her tone tacked with a dull anxiety and loathing edge. She reached out to touch a withering leaf, still green but covered in rancid black spots.  
  
“I wouldn’t do that.” The Warrior’s thick voice cut the silence, bringing the Inquisitor to a halt. “Two thousand years may have passed, but Arivis will not simply throw away old tactics. He’s doing to Hyrule what he did to Crandall...”  
  
The Deliverer snapped her wing away from recognition, a worried line formed across her brow. “This means we’ve made it, hasn’t it, we’re almost there.” Her firm pose from the morning and her anger both erased themselves, whatever had put her in a Mervil-like mood seemed to vanish here.  
  
“Try not to breathe heavily, you two.” Looking back, Tap and Kaz both shared a wide eyed expression at the unnatural grey and drab forest around them. “The fumes from this spell are just as toxic as touching it, we should push ahead as quickly as possible, Inquisitor. Arivis’s magic is slowly sapping away at this land. I fear for the worst.”  
  
“As you wish. To the right, everyone. I hope that the seed will remain unharmed.” The statement was met with a nod of agreement and ease. They continued forward, keeping a good distance from both walls of trees, the underbrush was combated by fully covered garments.  
  
Yazstromo’s face curdled for a moment. “Wait. ‘You two’? What about me, did you forget I was here or something? An arrow right through my aging old heart, Mervil. Maybe I need to be warned as well, don’t you think?” His wrinkled lines gave away to a chuckle with an auspicious glaze in his eyes, almost like he were trying to remember something.  
  
“Oh.” Mervil’s voice broke for a moment as he tightened his robes guardedly. “Yes, my apologies.” Everyone shared the same peculiar look, the Prophet even more so.  
  
“Is this... what he did?” A voice at the tail end carried forward, Tap’s usual questioning squeak sounded tired and wrought with what could only be a torn confusion. A rush of relief seemed to be drawn from the bizarre moment they had had.  
  
For a moment neither the Crandallian nor the Rito spoke, following ever vigilant behind their shorter guide into the very bowels of their troubles. “Despoil and plague the kingdom with his presence, his shadows and creatures? No, Hyrule is much more fortunate.” Naomi sighed at the sight of a half devoured corpse of what looked like a fermenting Deku in behind the tree line. Whatever had the taste for wood certainly didn’t have it for long.  
  
“Hyrule was weak.”  
  
“Now, that seems a bit harsh, don’t you think, Mervil?” Prodding the skulking figure with his staff, Yazstromo nearly tripped on a dislodged rock among their path. The crude cobblestones marked the crossroads into Kokiri Forest.  
  
“No, not at all. If the Knights, Casters and Royal Family weren’t such incompetent fools we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we? In comparison Crandall was far better equipped for the Demon’s power.” Mervil’s voice seethed with an unplaced malevolence and it was soon to grow.  
  
“And even then, Crandall was destroyed. That was the past, this is the present. We can save Hyrule.” Tap’s earnest was not transmitted far as the next log’s blockade broke to reveal to them a painful sight. The village lay before them, levelled and covered in vines, frost, and what seemed to be the likenesses of Kokiri turned into Deku. As they quickly passed toward the final set of passages, the damage started to gain. A half malformed boy stood between them and their goal, his face contorted in pain and confusion. His feet were roots, embedded in the ground and stained red with dried blood.  
  
The sight was almost too much for Naomi as she had to look away; the group had dispersed to look at the mess created by the forces of the Demon. Glaring with defiance, the Deku Lord hid his worried face from the others when he noticed the bandit staring at him from the side. Whatever force behind this held no mercy. If he could help, he would, but this was not a war he had any part in helping. As they said, you have to pick your battles.  
  
Mervil gazed across the torn expanse, his shoulders heavy, his fists clenched. The Kokiri boy’s changed eye stared blankly up at him, almost like it was mocking him.  
  
“Arivis’s cruelty never undermines standards. Morality is lost to him. As it is lost to many mortals that walk the earth.” Slowly the Wanderer turned to them, the Innocent most of all. “This and those millennia ago, are the only times I have felt pity, felt for wrongful death. You will never see this remorse again.”  
  
Cold rain began to fall, plastering the solemn faces of the six wandering folk of all walks of life. Unsure glances were made between the bandit and Tap, questioning both the sincerity of Mervil’s statement and his meaning. “My only fear in this life now, is what remains of your home. It is like he is trying to mock me through my memory, fading Hyrule just as he did to my home.”  
  
They passed the symbol of the Kokiri’s defeat with tilted heads, trying not to look the shrub in the eyes. The bridge interconnecting the forest with the remaining path back into the Field was still intact. _Of course it would be, the Numen would not need any arms to dispatch children. _  
  
“I’m afraid this is where our twisted paths come to an end, travellers.” The Deku Lord lazily swung around, his dimmed blue eyes hiding any compassion he could have for their fate; he even held an open hand at that moment. “I would help but my capitalization of your journey has also halted. I can only send with you my wishes and regard.” Making a clasping shape with his fist and shaking it slowly up and down he was using all his control to make sure he could walk away.  
  
Allanon had wanted _it_ so badly, he was ready to level a kingdom. So was this Demon. He hadn’t asked for any of this. He was done taking it.  
  
Mervil placed a small satchel in the wooden and slightly rain swollen hand of their temporary comrade. A nod was shared between them, droplets beading on their cloaks and the damp made them cling tightly around their bodies. “Try not to interfere with other events you have no business in.” As much as he tried, the Wanderer could only give a slight smirk as their guide promptly disappeared with his payment back into the despoiled Kokiri Forest.  
  
“We’re ready for this aren’t we?” Kaz approached the head of the line where Mervil and Naomi stood a few feet apart, looking longingly into the black shadow of the passage ahead.  
  
“Who could be?” The Prophet hobbled ahead and sat down on the nearest stump, realizing it was rotten and nearly fell through it. “It is almost like our very own Armageddon, without as much as a resistance against it. Beyond the way is Arivis.”  
  
“An Ancient superpower from the days of a kingdom far greater than this one,” it was Naomi now betraying Hyrule of glory with that of her only ‘home’. “That same Demon seeking the power of the Creator’s Orb, an even greater power,” Mervil’s back grew rigid at the mention of the name, such that it could be taboo. “If not for this happening, we would never have known of something so powerful.”  
  
The Innocent shook her head, pacing back and forth, her bow shaking in her tightened hands. “As much as any sensible person would run away at its idea, something that grants unrestricted travel among worlds and hordes of power...”  
  
“Cannot fall into his hands.” Yazstromo rolled his eyes and suddenly popped up with more skip to his step. “Such a grand exposition, a tad bit boring though, but I guess nothing is perfect. I thought we had a mission? An Innocent girl, a flying pirate, a crazy old loon, a seedy gangly boy, and a grouchy, Death-obsessed knight, all fighting an army of spirits led by a bloodthirsty Demon? It seems like one rousing time to me. Who needs atmosphere?”  
  
Naomi shook her head in embarrassed disbelief and a smile broke Mervil’s face for the first time in days. “It never seems to end with you, does it, Prophet?”  
  
“Nope, can’t say it does.”  
  
“We wouldn’t have it any other way, I suppose.” Mervil took the first step out into Hyrule for the first time in months, his eyes closed in both amusement and the desire not to look upon the hills. His courage gained as he felt a hand clasping his shoulder and that there was no audible response from the others. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he imagined. The assumption faltered horribly.  
  
Looking across the fields of Hyrule all he saw was destruction. The flags of exterior countries waved with frayed edges. Armoured bodies and artillery, cannons and catapults of various design, littered several large areas of ground. Mortar covered what seemed to be every inch of vegetation, what was visible was black with Death. The clouds above swirled maliciously, carrying a violet tint, sharing lightning among their bulging forms.  
  
The flashing back to ages and kingdoms gone by, made Mervil cringe. The memories of Crandall flooded him as the rain began to drop in sheets, the thunder rolling over the desecrated armies, their flags pulled low in shame. They were only five and were trying to do what thousands could not. Suddenly all his faith in the legend seemed to disappear with the freezing water bombarding his cloak. A black shadow against an already descending Sun hung on the horizon. The Castle Town was free for at least a good thousand feet of any resistance. Whatever killed these armies came to them before they could make their move. This wasn’t going to go well.  
  
“Wait a minute...” The Bandit approached them, feeling the strange sensation of Mervil’s presence rush over him. “Arivis thinks you’re dead. He can’t be forcing this down your throat.” The look he received was the first that did not hold contempt, Mervil made a double take to their destination and back. Everyone else seemed to have gathered in on Kaz’s epiphany like it were spoken from a god. “What?”  
  
“I don’t think we have enough time to discuss this!” Tap pointed up to the clouds, the streaming rows of Numen descending from them were more than reminiscent of Arivis’s first arrival in the kingdom. Even with their poor fighting skills, an attack from above by an army that was merely replaceable at will, would be able to overpower the strongest of battalions. Those that had helped had learned the hard way that material and worldly weapons were no match against a Demon ageless in comparison. “If this is how he wants to fight...” The Innocent cocked a single arrow into her bow, aiming it into the masses as they cascaded through the sky, their screams echoing for all to hear.  
  
“Behind y-,” A fist of dust filled Kaz’s mouth, another clasping his throat from behind. They were being flanked from all sides as more spirits rose up from the corpses and the earth in all directions. One had tackled Tap to the ground, pulling her bow away and snapping it in two to her most displeasure. Quickly kicking it away she dispatched it efficiently with a swing of her concealed dagger. She ran up to the struggling bandit, as the others circled in closer together, and bashed the hilt across the Numen’s head. A cracked skull flew out as it fell into dust. Kaz’s memories of the island returned.  
  
Ever since they had been among the lands of Crandall the Numen appeared to grow stronger despite remaining just as unintelligent. And they almost appeared to gain some sort of worldly form, almost like they were moving into real creatures. Could it be evolution of their design, by Arivis or their own will? Or could something else be at work?  
  
“Gods, I’m getting so sick of this!” The Prophet spun on his heel and blasted one of the opposing in the chest, scattering them into the wind. His fractious voice called out angrily at the horde as he met the backs of Naomi and Mervil. Their comrades could be seen fighting through the thick cloud of foes as they tried to overwhelm them. “We can’t brood for more than five minutes without getting up-ended like turtles by enemies that fight like them.”  
  
“Oh, please, stop your gibbering.” Naomi nodded to Mervil in silent agreement, leaving Yazstromo out in the cold. That is, until she leapt up and grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks, soaring high into the masses of Numen, their magic and numbers rattling off of their bodies. Mervil’s hand flailed at his side and grabbed Yazstromo’s arm.  
  
“Try not to soil yourself.”  
  
“Wha-,” The two of them were released from the Rito’s talons. Yazstromo’s stomach nearly left him and his daring wit behind. His beard slapped him in the face until he got enough control in the freefall to toss it over a shoulder; his cap had already sailed away.  
  
“Look up and hold on!” Mervil smiled again, but in his usual devious way, his teeth flashing brightly among his dark attire.  
  
Naomi pulled her spear from her back and hovered in mid-air, her thoughts gathering on what she was to do. As much as she hated magic and what it could do, there was little other choice. The tip of the weapon began to glow, a power surging through her muscles as it stored what few offensive spells she knew. Below her Mervil cast a small hex to stop them midflight, merely summoning his scythe and having it spin slightly above their heads in a discernable swirl.  
  
Opening her eyes, the Rito could see Kaz and Tap fending for themselves, both wielding daggers more akin to short swords. If not for the surprise attack, the Innocent would have been able to make a much larger dent with her magic. Arivis was starting to show his preference for Guerrilla tactics, it wasn’t like him to send out toadies to do his work. In Crandall he enjoyed causing the mayhem himself. This was probably showing his disregard to resistance, that he wouldn’t even be needed to conquer the realm...  
  
“Maybe after this you’ll learn your lesson!” She swung around her spear and felt herself encased in light magic. With one final turn she sent it careening down to the dark figure of Mervil. He looked up and closed his eyes, his spinning weapon setting aflame. Yazstromo followed it and immediately went to cover up his head with a wry smile cutting across his face.  
  
“Well, this should be interesting. Try not to kill me.”  
  
The illuminated spear smashed into the centre of Mervil’s scythe. A sound that could only be compared to amplified smashing glass rang out as the magic of both individuals collided. A massive wave of white light surged out from the epicentre, expanding and crackling with power and what could be an attributed 'rage'. The Numen immediately circling them were incinerated, others being blown apart by the trailing shockwave.  
  
Tap was thrown to the ground by the expulsion, her tunic becoming even more encrusted with dirt. Her fighting companion could be seen lit up by the white light as he too was suddenly sent crashing to the ground. All the Numen around them were ground into dust. Yet, something even more awe inspiring soon occurred. The resonating wave of magic from above dissipated into snapping strands of power; these flung wildly like whips, impaling, flogging, and smashing foes to the ground. At the very top among the column of magic Naomi appeared more a Phoenix than flesh and blood, the two men below here were surrounded by flames.  
  
A rippling formed at the summit of Mervil and Naomi’s joint spell, scattering the Numen clouds and rushing to meet with the soil. The impact threw any remaining foes into shambles and sent Tap and Kaz tumbling down an embankment. Slowly the light faded, the figures of the other three descending to the dust covered ground below, sinking to their knees in the dunes. Skulls dotted the escarpment, Mervil found glee bashing in as many as he could underfoot as they reconvened.  
  
“Seems we still have a few kinks in our old habits.” Mervil spoke to the air more than it seemed to the tired looking Naomi as she landed in front of them. The Prophet, still clenched in the Warrior’s grip, gave a look of bewilderment. He wasn’t sure if that was a truthful statement, showing off, or trying to be modest about what they had performed. “And that... things are a bit awry.” Another skull met a crushed fate.  
  
“Leave it up to you to ruin our old times, you coot.” The Deliverer’s wings stirred up the sands beneath them all, Tap and Kaz’s faces were red with exertion and overall awe.  
  
“_That_ was supposed to be bad?” Kaz ran up to them in shock, placing his sword in its holster, the Innocent doing the same. He threw his arms apart to encompass their surroundings and looked up at the torn sky, the rain splashing in his face. “You decimated what armies couldn’t by yourselves and you act bashful and ashamed of it?”  
  
Mervil reached down and pulled up the fallen body of a knight, spinning it reluctantly in hand. The weight did not seem to faze him, his weapon struck at an odd angle a few feet away. Pulling the corpse up to the faint sunlight across the hills, a blistering hole provided the view of the dark Castle. “This was not the work of Numen, fool. And you think that _I_ am the monster?” The Wanderer dropped the ill-fated soldier into the remains of wooden weapons below.  
  
“It is all a matter of perspective, Death.” Naomi sighed, giving her spear a disgusted look. She would have to force herself to get over what she did, even if these creatures felt nothing but devotion to Arivis. “Performing evil acts can never truly be justified. Those of a greater evil can prove that. I can think of both you and the Demon in that same regard, you both carry out objectives for yourselves in the conjecture that it will support the world that will become of it.”  
  
“Do not compare me to that beast! I do what I do for the sake of a future devoid of criminal acts and sorrow.”  
  
“But you still get your own twisted entertainment from it, don’t you?” Tap now became his centre of attention. Yet her arguments seemed to be less supportive of her stance. “You aren’t Arivis, but you act in those same regards and for those same goals. I can at least say that you’re better than him despite what you’ve done to people you ‘passed judgment’ upon.”  
  
Kaz shook his head, carrying it in his face like he was in pain. “Do you guys always have to argue about this? I mean, damn, Yaz is almost asleep over there.” The Prophet faked a snore and failed at holding back a giggle.  
  
“I br-,” But Mervil was cut off by the elderly man off to the side.  
  
“’Bring Justice to an unjust world. Punish those with what they deserve; I enjoy watching delayed dues being given.’ As much as you consider yourself a saviour in that definition, I would have to agree. So why don’t we enjoy a giant pile of shutting up?” Yazstromo rolled his eyes, his usual smirk being tested. Lightning flashed above, blessing the earth with more rain. The dunes ran with water and slowly blew away in the wind. There were no tricks this time. Could he be expecting them? If so, why not try to squash their nuisance before any trouble occurred.  
  
That was right. This was Arivis’s kingdom now and his power reached out to throttle neighbours and eventually the entire realm. “I vote that we continue forward. Do I have any takers?” A dull twinkle formed in the Scholar’s eye as he surveyed the contested group for a response that wasn’t covered in spite and malice.  
  
“I think we need a plan more than anything.” Tap picked up her broken bow with the saddest face she could muster; it had been her prized possession.  
  
“I like the sound of rushing in, breaking down the Castle doors and slaughtering anything and everything that gets in our way. You know, to get things over with.” Mervil drew forth his weapon from the softened ground below, pulling back his hood as its water weight was slowly drawing it down to cover his eyes. “But then again, we tried that approach last time and look where that landed us.”  
  
Kaz frowned at the small pass he had made to Galysses and Railin, like their memory was already nearly forgotten and disregarded. He bottled those regrets away with his anger. Sometimes he had to live with what Death had to say, as much as he wouldn’t and couldn't agree.  
  
“I don’t see where we have any other way. I’m pretty sure Arivis knows we’re here thanks to you two showing off.” Picking his way down the bank, Yazstromo shrugged his shoulders promptly plucking his hat with pleasure from the muddy earth. Without another thought he placed it on his head, the brown water rushing down his face. He was shameless in his reaction, wiping his brow like he was hot. “How refreshing.”  
  
“No. He doesn’t know we’re here.” Mervil snapped his fingers and his trusty weapon disappeared in a puff of smoke. A dry smile cracked his lips as he looked back at the flustered bandit in their group. “I suppose there are a few redeemable things about you after all, Kaz. He only knows that _you four_ are here. Not me.”  
  
“So? What has that got to do with anything?” Despite the apparent compliment, he tilted his head in confusion and scrounged up his face to reflect it. And it was then Naomi’s begrudged mood seemed to lift in her own realization of the fact. “I was just saying before, he can’t be forcing it in your face if you aren’t here. I’m not sure what brilliance comes from that.”  
  
“The brilliance is that Arivis thinks the Warrior is dead and that Mervil is too. He’s sitting on his throne more easily and contently because of it. With Death as our prophesized saviour, and again the only man or beast that was able to topple the Demon before...” The Rito placed her spear back against her wings, pulling them in closely like she was catching a cold from the abysmal weather. “When he arrives unscathed on his doorstep, his pride and ambition will falter. It’s like playing a game of cards with an ace up the sleeve.”  
  
“And I’m pretty sure I know the suit. Clubs, thick headed, black as Death, sharp as cheese and unemotional.” The Prophet called as he continued to walk forward, the others paying no heed while he passed under the entangled flag of a Hylian encampment. One of the soldiers had been struck with an arrow in the side of his helm, slouching him against the pole. “But then again, saving a feeble old man’s life by sacrificing your own, you just might be the ace of hearts. Still a black hearted one, mind you."  
  
Mervil grew stiff and decided to follow the old man’s path rather than stand around waiting reluctantly. “I had to ensure that the Prophet was protected.”  
  
“How could you know I really was the one you were looking for?”  
  
“Intuition. I took the chance that the legend could still remain true and I was right, as I had expected.” Death shrugged his shoulders as they made a new rendezvous at the edge of the army lines. It seemed only Hyrule had been able to make it that far, the town walls had been battered relentlessly by cannon fire, pieces were completely reduced to rubble. Yet it was still a foreboding stronghold. “Without you, defence against the Demon would have been nearly impossible. I had to make sure you remained with us.”  
  
“Are you sure it isn’t because you like me?” Yazstromo winked at Mervil’s scowl, knowing he had got his message across. “Don’t worry, the look on your face already tells me the story. I’ll keep it a secret if you’d like.” He turned his head to see the others at their back, listening to every word and trying not to laugh, uncertain if this would be the last time they would ever experience joy.  
  
“Think whatever you want, Prophet, whatever your goal is with this gibberish, it doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere. I hardly believe that those Numen were all the measures Arivis has taken to keep his control over Hyrule. He may have a big head on his shoulders now, but he is never one to undermine his own operations.”  
  
There was no response. “Yazstromo?” The Warrior turned back in his direction to see where he’d gone, only to discover he had been blown off as the old man popped up from the ground with a half charred spoon in hand.  
  
“Were you saying something?”  
  
“No, I can’t imagine the idea.” Mervil rolled his eyes as he traced them across the discrete line that separated clear field from that littered in metal and defeat. “Would he have implemented a shield spell, perhaps?”  
  
“Then just touch it, like this.” Naomi swung her spear in front of her; it cut through the air with no resistance. “I’m assuming he had sentries set up on the walls while they were intact and they simply relayed the message of, you know, thousands of armour clad soldiers transporting along trebuchets and cannons.”  
  
The winds picked up from their back, almost like they were trying to push them faster into their goal. The city walls were still out of reach, the mound of Lon Lon Ranch just another disfigured shadow against the waning sun. Arivis seemed hell-bent on keeping people away from the capital as much as he likely did with those unable to escape the night of the Autumn Festival.  
  
“He probably has prisoners.” Tap tapped the mud from her boots only to set her feet down in a puddle as she walked beyond the final flag of human defiance. Her grimace followed with her words. “As much as he would enjoy slaughtering them all, he probably kept them for enjoyment. Perhaps he flocked others from nearby, took men from the barracks here and cast them into the dungeon walls?” She looked at the two from the age gone by for a response.  
  
“It’s a pity that we won’t be helping them. At least not yet. I’m certain that if they are even alive or are there at all, that they can withstand a while longer in captivity.”  
  
“Why not? If we plan on surprising him, can’t you go rescue them, Mervil?”  
  
“You’re forgetting that I’m the one who would rather have them stay put while we do something a bit more productive. Like saving their world rather than their lives. It’d be a fancy to killing two birds with one stone, except we’re killing one Demon instead.” Stepping past the Innocent, he turned and opened his arms. “If you’d like to come along, it’d be my pleasure to escort.”  
  
A spell spread outward from the cloaked man’s feet, one that Yazstromo recalled from the night of the king’s assassination. The shield enveloped them, hiding their trace from whatever onlookers there may have been. Mervil directed them to walk among him in a pentagonal formation, the sloping hills of Hyrule carrying them down with the wind and rain. The sun’s blood red appearance finally slipped under the suffocation of night, violet and violent lightning drowned out the stars.  
  
The only sentry on duty upon the walls of Lon Lon Ranch watched as the four figures disappeared into thin air. The Numen General departed to the Castle beyond, word of intruders upon his breath.  
  
*  
  
Dark halls twisted along his path. If not for the dampening of magic within the Castle, yet beyond the Inner Chambers, he would have found travelling merely a momentary nuisance. Arivis desired belittling those that would approach him by word and by action. The Numen General came to a halt at the marking of the throne room doors, a strange symbol had been burned in them the day they arrived. This was the symbol of the Numen’s Creation, that of all his brethren. It was Arivis’s mark.  
  
And it was upon all that he conquered.  
  
“I deliver myself with news to His Highness.” Bowing down and touching the floor with one immaterial hand, the General watched the Sentinel Statues observe him and unlock the doors. The weak feeling that had accompanied him through the halls dissipated as his magical essence was restored at the opening of the Great Doors. And perched, as always, at the far end of the hall, sat the Demon, scrawling ancient text in midair with boredom. Ever since his momentary celebration of success and the sudden recollection that a key was still missing, there was more brooding than bragging that came forth from this hall.  
  
“Lord Arivis, I bring troublesome news.”  
  
“Speak if you must.” The Demon scattered the magical drawings he had been making into flames, lighting up the dark and tattered throne room. His bored drawl carried no excitement or penance.  
  
“The others, they have arrived. The Rito, the old man and their two stragglers are advancing this way. Somehow they were victorious over the Swarm and any other of our alarms.”  
  
There was no response from the dimly lit alcove. The smouldering red eyes of his superior rose up from the floor and across to him, the ominous feeling that carried with it was overwhelming. It appeared like an opening for explanation was being given as to why everything had gone unnoticed until then, but they both knew it was more than lacking in importance.  
  
“What would you have me do? The legions are set to attack; the sentries of the town are already upon their schedules and armed for any resistance.”  
  
“We have devoured entire armies from this nation and beyond its lands. What little resistance they can give now without a figurehead would be pitiful at best. With that troublesome Mervil out of the situation...” Arivis’s eyes seemed to brighten with glee and excitement, the same said of his tone. “What you have failed to realize, as it appears you share the same baffling numbness, is that they are merely playing into the trap.”  
  
The General returned to an erect position as his Master did before him, the torn smile the Demon wore widened as he spoke, his lips never moving. “They say that the whims of Fate deal what is best for the course of the world. The Gods smile down upon me. As much as I know the Rito would be tempted to leave the snivelling remains of Mervil alone, the power and knowledge contained in his book would do even more so. I can feel its strength; it’s faint without a worthy owner. They carry it among them...” The two staves appeared in his hands, their encrusted tips glittering in the faint torchlight.  
  
“Their twisted ideals of loyalty to a creature such as him, it is almost too pathetic to bear. I will find pleasure from this, taking the final key from my old goal’s hands. I had expected Naomi to honour the little wretch’s memory, but never to lose her mind over him.” A smile grew wider as he gazed down at his follower, finally answering his question. “Let them come, it has been ages of boredom since our last meeting.”  
  
Obviously agitated at the choice, the General bowed once more and began to take his leave. Despite his brethren being ever so lacking of many qualities, it still bothered him that they were more fodder than minions. But what was the difference when the facades were stripped? Arivis clearing his voice made him stop in his tracks at the Great Doors.  
  
“If you so desire to redeem what happened at the Bronze Construct...” His queer and disharmonious laugh echoed down the corridor, not even expecting a reply.  
  
“I wouldn’t sacrifice the chance.”  
  
*  
  
“So, I’m guessing the dirty work is being left to us?” Naomi’s voice was cutting in both sarcasm and truth. She ruffled her wings into a more comfortable position; at least the spell was keeping the weather out for a few moments longer.  
  
“Of course, we need to leave him an impression after all.” Yazstromo sidled up and between Kaz and Tap, passing a darting glance at the bandit’s wandering eyes. “It’ll ruin all the fun if Death starts romping around Arivis’s playground; I’m interested in the look on his face more than I am anything else. Well, besides the obvious lack of defiance. As much as his ego may have claimed him in our last meeting, I don’t understand why his control isn’t as guarded as I would have expected. Maybe he felt we would keep his warning of staying away?”  
  
“Or he’s luring us into his greedy hands.” Gazing out and toward the black castle walls, the Rito could see flashes back to the day when Arivis had conquered the Crandallian capital of Altes City. The only difference now was that she was walking with more than just Mervil at her side. She had to keep reminding herself that those days were gone. “Seems like the gates are open. He’s probably just showing off, even if no one would be around to see it.”  
  
“I would probably guess he’s a little more than angry after finding out that he still lacks the final key to ‘attaining all his desires’. Maybe he threw a tantrum.” Kaz laughed but nobody joined in, leaving him feeling more than awkward and alone, Tap tried to share a meek smile but couldn’t muster it. Jokes had become taboo, this was the first time he felt the full brunt of the war he was helping fight. His stomach churned in anxiety.  
  
The stench of death was carried upon the wind as they made the final approach. Rising high were the ruins of guard towers and storehouses. Over the years the capital walls had been merely renewed with new blocks being placed on the perimeter, they had claimed over half of the original moat. But what was the use of a moat in these days when magic spelled the worst an army could possess? The empty black windows, shattered or smashed in, stared down like mourning eyes, watching them move under their shroud.  
  
Only the patter of their feet on the fading strength of the drawbridge betrayed their arrival. An emotion that could only consist of fear and awe washed over them, it was more dangerous a spell than there ever could have been in place. Everything was quiet, the houses and buildings had been looted in their absence, cobblestones upturned and still faintly stained with blood. The mosaic of the town centre was covered in the affiliations of the royal family, mostly the chariot and knights who had tried to rebel those many days ago.  
  
“It’s like we’ve been gone for centuries. Almost like an entirely different world now, isn’t it?” Kaz looked down and blinked a few times at the layout of the steel encrusted corpses. The symbol looked familiar, something close to what Railin had described to him when they were finally back together for their short reunion. The words of Hyrule’s virtues had been charred out of the tile painting, replaced with ancient letters much older than Hylian. “What does this say, Mervil?”  
  
The Wanderer seemed to have drifted into his own dream world, snapped to by the faint realization he had been addressed. Making a quick glance down to the horrific monument of past power, he stroked at his chin with a genuine puzzled expression on his face. “They are separate words actually. ‘Creation, Power, Genocide, Destruction...’” Now he bore nothing specific for a facial feature, like the black words were merely gibberish.  
  
“That can’t be right...”  
  
“Hm?” Naomi circled the crude mass grave and read the words aloud one after the other until uttering what her ally had not. “Redemption. Redemption for what?” Her face emanated confusion, whereas Mervil’s bore an almost worried one. Either way, neither of them could understand what they were reading fully.  
  
“It reads almost like a list.” The Innocent wished she could hear the thoughts going on in both of their older member’s minds, their perplexed faces speaking the same cryptic tones they used in uttered words.  
  
“As much as I should be in tune with my Scholarly and Prophetic ways...” The eldest looking of the five drew attention from the ground to his pointing finger. They followed it and he seemed to stifle a laugh as if he had just tricked them. “I’m pretty sure that _that_ is a bit more pressing.” High above what appeared to be an unnatural nightfall began to cast through the clouds, almost like it were being carried by the arching lightning. Mist began to culminate as the temperature dropped and the rain seemed to lighten. “Anybody willing to give us some li-,”  
  
Torches across the immediate plaza began to light, despite the faint illumination still granted by the heavens, they seemed to make it darker. Blood red, profound orange, and rich purple flames dotted the expanse, providing havens of light that seemed more foreboding than their surroundings. Farther up the square and beyond the ransacked bazaar, lay the narrow entrance to the winding Castle path. Even here it appeared to be a solid black and lurching shadow upon the horizon. Violet torches lined its edges up and into the darkness.  
  
“So it appears that you have come.” An unusual and resonating voice carried over the ravished plaza, its arrival the moment the final central torch sprang to life. “From your group’s resistance at Kakariko and of the Construct, I would share my accounts of surprise and belated acceptance of what had been attempted and ultimately accomplished. The Numen, like your people, well, they were only mindless sheep ready for herding or slaughter in your path.”  
  
Mervil opened his mouth to respond but thought twice when he received the irritated look Naomi shot him. They were still on a plan, or at least what had the skeleton of one. And already it was more than obvious something had detected them under his spell; pretending like they weren’t even there could prove disastrous.  
  
“But since those meetings, it seems your strength has been sapped from allied deaths and the destruction of the Warrior and of Death. Still, you four remain a threat. Not to Arivis or his regime, but to what remains of Honour and Vengeance in this modern realm.”  
  
“Who are you?” After a cycle of nods, Mervil pointed to the Sanctuary at the edge of the town as his next destination. Yazstromo continued to speak as he extricated himself from the shroud of the spell and back into the rain, his staff supporting his walk. Soon the Innocent emerged to his left, Kaz behind him, and Naomi to his left so that all sides could be flanked. Whether Mervil had departed was up to imagination. “It’s a pity to say that I don’t believe we’ve met.”  
  
Somewhere the voice laughed in both mockery and loathsome boredom. “That simply is not true. You could say that you have met me thousands of times over, or just once. It is up to the mind to decide. I am not completely my own.” In the distance a lone Numen descended under a violet torch. At first there was nothing discernable about it until its feet touched the ground, showing it to be material, taller and adorned in a much different robe.  
  
“You were the leader, back at the Construct? I was wondering where you had gotten off to.” There was no response as the Prophet continued to act as their representative.  
  
“Well, it was a pity that we could not have acquainted ourselves then. My time was lacking and the others were proving, at the time, to effectively buy time. But we all know how that ended.” The General seemed to laugh at the misfortune with an embarrassed embrace to the memory of that outcome. “Yet, in every instance, I have done little to nothing in stopping you in your tracks. The others would share my laments, but dust only falls back to dust.”  
  
As he approached, he cocked his head, his arms in no stance whatsoever. It seemed like all he was interested in was delivering a speech. “I felt it when you dispatched my Swarm from the field earlier. Their pain and defeat all my own.” His voice turned cold and screeching, the form of the Numen began to lose its sharpness while he walked. “When he told me the abilities he could augment for me when he brought me back, I could not resist. But all he wanted was my magic to create mindless and soulless silage to do his bidding.” There was an ear popping sigh as the air seemed to grow thinner around them.  
  
“I let him do it, not knowing the sacrifice I would make. Manifesting those that he killed only proved to seize my own being, split my own strength into their countless numbers. I made Numina that were without. I made spirits that were lacking.” The General stopped a few feet away; two faint eyes bore out from beneath the grey hood, black and beady. “They were me, their screams were mine, and their power was mine. The Demon’s trickery reduced me to nothing, but my contract had to be upheld.”  
  
“I had to make them. I had to be them at every moment. From Creation to Death. My will falters and so have their design. Such are the toils of suffering. I have fought a battle that I was meant to lose since the very beginning.”  
  
No one replied immediately, each equally dazed at trying to comprehend what their foe was delivering. The Prophet, quick to jump upon his chance, spoke reluctantly. “The Numen are not a body of creatures, but, beyond all the complications, a spell? And you are their Creator, not Arivis?”  
  
“Arivis provided the souls to harvest. I took them to create his army, only to watch as I had been abused and thieved of knowledge and of my life. It is almost a humiliating thing to admit that they are of my craft.”  
  
“And you still claim yourself loyal to him?”  
  
“It is not by choice but by necessity. By his will.” A defined edge protruded from one of his resting hands, shifting to form a sharply curved short sword. “I have realized that the world is nothing of its previous form and that I want nothing to do with it. To me, the Demon can have it, as long as I can take to the winds of destiny like he has promised in my waning state. You may not be my enemy, but my hand is being forced. I wish that this will cause no strife between us.”  
  
Before anyone was sure what was happening, the General flashed out of sight, the torches in the court immediately being blown out. “If you are one for a fair bargain, why won’t you fight us as such?” Naomi called out into the dusk, keeping her guard held for any sudden attacks.  
  
“You are Four; I am but finally one man.” The flames returned as well as their master, who was a mere inch from Kaz’s face, the uppercut with his blade nearly gutting him if not for the quick reaction. He flew forward into the centre of the plaza and raised his free hand as if reaching toward the brightest torch. Spirals of fire showered out of the various coloured flames around the Square, snaking their way into the sky and collecting into a large multicoloured sphere. The Numen raised himself higher into the air, turning the streams into taunt wires hanging from his spell. “I have learned of the pains of magic and the pains of war. Life and death are inevitabilities. Suffering and faith are unfair tests. The power of many sometimes can be no greater than that of one. Yet, I am both.”  
  
The torches crackled angrily as the remaining strands of their magic snapped shut into the General’s hand. “The power of the Numen rests within me. I will show you of its true might, that it is no force to take lightly!” A blinding expulsion of light raced out from his palm, hundreds of robed spectres hung among the night sky, all colourful in contrast to their Creator. With another wave of magic they dispersed in a swarm, passing between the material world and their own.  
  
“Get ready!” Naomi snatched her spear from her back and spread her wings while the Innocent and the bandit drew their short swords. Looking from side to side clearly amused at the display, Yazstromo almost seemed caught in other thoughts before pulling forth a handful of cutlery from his belt. Winking back at his Rito accomplice, the Scholar blew between the tines of his fork, casting a thick black smoke that enveloped them completely. The strong wings of the Rito battered the air around them, sending the screen in all directions.  
  
Under the veil, they quickly spread out. This way they could not be overwhelmed in a swarm of these new beings while they darted in and around the Scholar’s spell in search of a target. Their rich cloaks of red, orange, blue, green, and violet were only blurs in their vision among thick black smoke. Yazstromo, situated beyond the mosaic of the court, threw a series of various knives in the air above him, each glowing in a corresponding colour of the new opposition. With his autonomous wink, they multiplied and began to spin around him like a colourful shield.  
  
Tap found herself up upon the walls she first traversed the night of the Autumn Festival, stumbling into a half ruined tower to find an odd assortment of what could only be leftover fireworks. Across the main court from her Kaz had managed to upright a half melted cannon on the roof of a battered building, one ball still loaded inside. The corpse of the knight must have been dumped with the other figures of power below. Naomi sailed above them all, her spear in hand, watching the confused enemies try to bombard the space in which they had originally been.  
  
“Your tricks will only get you so far, girl.” Before she could turn around, a blast of magic was set off a few feet behind her, throwing Naomi forward in the air in an unstable tumble. The grey cloak of the General spun in her vision as he charged another attack. His sword that now took more of the appearance of a long rod rather than a basic weapon, its tip glowing with power. Suddenly letting herself drop, the Deliverer gained momentum from the dive and returned back to the same level as her opponent. He fired another spell but she rolled out of the way, rocketing off toward him, passing through a cloud of smoke as he frustratingly vanished yet again.  
  
The General reappeared back to the cobblestones, directing his hordes to cease as the smoke cleared. “Arm yourselves; show them what strength is rightfully yours!” Each of the various Numen stretched out their hands and received a matching stained glass bow in the style that their other forms used. The group cackled with their Creator as they fired off their weapons. Flames of each colour shot out instead of arrows, each terrifying and beautiful at the same time.  
  
But these were joined by properly adorned knives as Yazstromo emerged from his hiding place, sending his cyclone of utensils out into the town. Some of their colour matched targets vanished in time to be spared a deadly strike, but others fell in the familiar fashion of their lesser relatives. At their screaming demise, the General reacted in much the same way, paralyzed in pain and falling to his knees with his head in his hands. Naomi’s eyes widened as she realized her chance, but this was soon replaced by disgusting realization. The fallen remains of the Numen returned to the torches they had originated from but caused them to react much more fervently, spreading into the buildings nearby as consequence.  
  
Tap was soon swarmed by the colourful spectrum of Numen as they began to set ablaze the wooden planks of the tower ceiling. Stumbling out with a handful of crudely coloured cylinders, she attempted to keep them from getting wet from the rain as she ran for the next tower. Behind her the fireworks tower exploded in swirling lights, some smashing through the unprepared spirits. The General’s cries echoed as he tried to catch his bearings and disappear before becoming too vulnerable. But despite the setback, the survivors of the explosion followed. Rolling into the next guardhouse, Tap became painfully familiar with the ground. The floor had been smashed through with a toppled supply of cannonballs sometime in the past. Her fireworks clattered everywhere as she landed hard on the cobblestones below, shooting off every which way in vibrant displays.  
  
A deafening blast echoed across the court, immediately drawing the Numen’s attention away from the others. Kaz’s cannonball sailed through the air before its weakened iron shattered into dozens of pieces of shrapnel, most of which embedded themselves within the ground or the walls. A few straying pieces pierced a set of green cloaks, their sand collecting back into their torches and setting more of the town aflame. Looking around, Kaz found other various pieces of metal and began jamming them into the tube of his weapon. But before being able to fire off another volley, he was being surrounded by flames as his building fell victim. A rebelling group of Numen gathering at its base and torching the ground floor did not aid his situation.  
  
Naomi dove as the bandit took his only escape route of jumping, and caught him by the arm, nearly dislocating his shoulder as she plopped him back with an overly amused Yazstromo. Knives were materializing and flying in every which direction, but it seemed that for every foe reduced to dust, dozens were there to replace it. Taking Kaz by the hand, the Scholar pulled him into his shield as he pulled out a very old looking ladle.  
  
“Now pay close attention to my lead, it should be fun.” Yazstromo pretended like he was scooping something in front of him and as if he were taking a sip. A spark passed from his lips and to the ladle, covering it in a shimmering light as it grew into a larger and heavier version. Heaving the oversized spoon over his shoulder, he left the swirling cloud of cutlery with a smirk to Kaz. A purple cloaked Numen noticed the opening at the old man and began to dart toward him. “How I’ve always wanted to try this!” With both hands, Yazstromo swung the ladle like a heavy club and smashed through the incoming foe, sending sand in every direction as he howled with delight. Kaz couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.  
  
But the celebration was short lived. The General reappeared in the centre of the plaza, standing upon the mosaic with a flailing Tap held out in front of him.  
  
“Enough of this impudence!” An orb of black light formed faintly in the shaking Numen’s hand while he bellowed out into the inferno. Buildings along all sides were groaning in anguish, boards falling to ash and stone walls losing their support. Soon the entire capital would be claimed, any remaining souls would be lost.  
  
“Tap, no!” Kaz began to run forward but a cloud of blazing red Numen interfered. But only for a moment. Yazstromo’s spell suddenly reacted to his will as all the blades fired forward with the bandit’s dramatic reaching out of his hand. The utensils cut through the creatures with ease. A scream of pain echoed out along with the crashing of Tap’s body among the plate-armour beneath her.  
  
Quickly speeding across the expanse of the plaza, Naomi put all the force she could through her body and through her spear, smashing into the dazed leader. They tumbled and rolled across the broken streets and crashed through the burning bazaar’s front walls. The Rito’s spear lay lodged through the chest of her enemy, who lay gasping among violet flames. She could only observe his flailing for a moment. Above her the support beams gave as Naomi managed to sprint through their entry point as the building fell in upon itself.  
  
A chorus of horrible cries echoed out into the darkness as the swarming Numen dropped their glass bows to the ground below to watch them break across the stones. Their hands met their heads as they tried to gain control over their forms. But even then their bodies phased in and out of existence until finally they burst vibrantly into their original magical fires, falling and smothering out on the ground below. All of the different flames across the town flickered and went out, their black smoke rising up into the already dark clouds.  
  
The rain began to pour in waves as breaths were caught.  
  
But a more ragged one echoed out and attempted to create words. “You... cannot defeat the... soul. The Demon. His power is that of...gods. He will be informed. He will know... You cannot kill one that is a legion. You cannot destroy the spirit.” The rubble of the bazaar trembled, mortar and dust were thrown about as the shivering form of the General rose into the air, his colour nearly white with Naomi’s spear impaled through him. “The Numen are a concept lacking in unstable realities. I am them, am all of them!”  
  
Calling out with the same indiscernible screech that each Numen gave upon death, the form of the General appeared to be slowly falling to pieces. Then in one last lightshow, he fragmented like glass, Naomi’s spear falling to her feet. Thousands of familiar grey cloaks began to flow out from the centre of the General’s silhouette, billowing into the night sky and hovering over the four heroes.  
  
The spirits snapped to attention from their free state, floating for only a moment before beginning to cascade upon the exhausted group, their stances weak and broken. Naomi started to charge her light magic but was sent crashing to the ground as the wave of creatures smashed down into them, sending the group every which way. All the cloaks were buzzing a common phrase as they pressed forward, crushing their opposition beneath their might. “There is but only the consuming darkness!”  
  
“And in those moments, there is always a beacon of hope.” A figure enveloped with light flashed into existence among the cloud, holding its arms aloft, a spherical object high above its head. Crests of energy tore through the remains of the General, sending his army flying off and disintegrating into pouring streams of sand. The weight of their power lifted, the four members rose back to their feet and watched as every last grey cloak fell to their newest arrival. One after another they were conquered in the blinding array, until just one remained. In a final cry for mercy, either from Arivis or their defiance, the Numen General went quiet slowly tumbling to the street below. His body laid limp and material for only a moment before swiftly phasing out of existence, leaving no sign of his presence behind. A second sigh rushed out among the city.  
  
“Flashy entrance, wasn’t it?” They all turned to the short posture of their one time follower, the Inquisitor stood looking both proud and exhausted, the present Mervil gave him sat glowing in his hands. “I guess my change of heart was for the best. Though I’m perfectly sure your Warrior would have come in if things really were out of your favour.”  
  
A strange feeling of comfort befell the five members as Mervil’s spell suddenly fell over them again. His tall lumbering form was half way through a shrug, showing he had been already there for at least a moment. “And as it seems... Arivis’s cruelty and manipulation stands like it had millennia ago. Yet in the true face and might of the Numen, it appeared like they were handling things quite well for themselves. I had yet to see the necessary moment for any interference.” A smile flickered on his gaunt face as he looked among their reddened faces. A troubled expression seemed to claim him in their short time apart. “But just because you’ve finished a job does not mean we are through.” He directed his attention to the black slab on the horizon, violet lamps still lighting the path to it.  
  
“If the Innocent would do the honours of making some minor repairs...” Mervil displayed his gloved hand and swept it among the group. “We can be on our way. Unless we have any quarrels?” He directed this last query towards the Deku Lord with a flicker of his eyes. Stretching, the Inquisitor merely nodded and pocketed the bizarre glowing seed in response. “I hope that we can meet again, that way your actions here can be properly rewarded. If that power is somehow unsuitable, mind you.” A dark twist followed these words, but Mervil’s target paid no heed either by ignorance or choice.  
  
“Don’t mention it. I do what I do for the sake of business and understanding.”  
  
“Then what would you call what you’ve done here, charity?” Naomi rolled her eyes in disgust at the Deku while Tap healed her wounds. Prior to this she had hastily tended to the bandit and Scholar. Her own injuries, especially from the fall, would have to wait until after the Rito was done her questioning.  
  
“I’d compare it more to a debt paid rather than a donation. I have helped as best as I can spare. I bid you tidings.” The Deku Lord closed his eyes, the seed in his pocket emitting a peculiar light. “And Mervil, I share my gratitude. This seed is my salvation. May all of you find yours.” He hesitated for hardly a moment, turning away and disappearing in the same blinding light as before, with Naomi ready to share more words only to have been overshadowed. Beyond her plight, the victory and Tap’s healing gave her a new euphoria that she had not felt for a very long time.  
  
And it was now they finally took in their reality, that there was no turning back. Throughout their journeys there was only mourning for Crandall, that the idea that Hyrule could still be saved was felt as something attainable. But now, among the final remains of the decimated Numen Creator and that of the once great capital, it seemed so far from the truth. From the rush of a proposed Apocalypse at the hands of the Demon and his weapons, to the now restless calm, it never felt more so that what they had to do was a miracle at best.  
Despite having the true Warrior at hand and the words of the Prophecy on their side, Mervil dwelled the most on the only truth they could know. They were only words.  
  
“Are you ready?” Naomi gave up her stinging remarks for the short-lived visit of the Inquisitor and spoke a sentence finally not fully regarded with Mervil. She looked among their small group and thought back to their experiences as a team, or at least their attempts to be a team. They, and even she, had no idea of Arivis’s true might. Only Mervil’s firm stance and almost perpetual agitation showed that what lay ahead would prove their most difficult trial yet. How could they truly feel prepared?  
  
“We do it now, and never again.” Mervil walked beyond the gates to the Castle Path and did not look back, the flickering posts snuffing out almost by his will.  
  
There was no more resistance. With the source of the Numen at last put to death, it appeared there were no more cards to be played by Arivis. Rather he had approved of the hoisting of the Castle Vassals on iron spikes by each torch along the trail. Hyrule Castle had never seemed so large before, rising high with thick and presumably impregnable walls. At the small drawbridge that covered another miniature moat before the final incline to the dark entryway, two knights had been skewered upon its railings. Gorons turned completely into black stone lay upturned with mouths agape, a small forest of malformed Kokiri lined the sloping bank to the churning waters, and Zora lay impaled by rusted spikes, their arms bound in flailing positions as if they were drowning. This was Arivis’s display of his dominion over the kingdom, and its message carried heavily in the dimming light.  
  
Mervil walked upon the stone arch of the crossing, stopping mid step and having the others pass him by a few strides. They turned with questionable looks on their faces. Each of them looked so small and defined by the size of the Castle at their backs. What were they doing, coming into this still? Blind devotion at its finest, perhaps even blackest ignorance.  
  
“I will join you later.” His response was harsh, snapping his scythe from midair and holding it over his shoulder, looking up and down the stream below. Naomi’s face contorted in rage and she began to speak but he held up his hand, his book somehow already in grasp. “You have to trust me, for once.” And somehow through his words her expression melted away to a nod, looking down at the remainder of their friends.  
  
“What are we going to do?” Tap was nursing one of her bruises from her fall, watching the sheets of rain pour off of Mervil’s diffracting shield.  
  
“The only thing that there is left to do.” Yazstromo held his ladle-club in hand, rhythmically cupping his hand over the charred end from its meeting with the Numen. “Show what we are made of and that all we have done and lost has not been for nothing.” It was one of the most noticeable times where the Prophet was bearing a serious composure, his back straight and his eyes shining with anticipation.  
  
“Would you like to do the honours?” Passing back to Mervil’s vicinity, the Rito pointed at the iron clad doors of the Castle, a faint smile cracking her face, as if it were another past moment to share. There was no change on Mervil’s face, his hood back over his head and drowning his face completely in darkness. He waved his hand in the space in front of him, nullifying the spell around the other four and forcing them into the might of nature. Another quick action sent a roaring into the air along with the thunder; a white bolt of magic seared from the clouds and fragmented the doors on contact, sending their twisted remains crashing into the hall beyond.  
  
Naomi promptly curved around and saw nothing but darkness within the corridor. A chilling wind ushered them forward from the rain; stepping last into the threshold of Arivis’s Sanctum, Kaz turned back to Mervil only to see that he was gone once again.  
  
As they moved forward ready for any defiance from whatever forces could remain under the Demon’s control, they all shared a fright as faint orange lamps sparked to life, a chandelier high above claiming sovereignty. Besides the frayed carpets, smashed pottery, torn draperies, and blood stains, there still lingered majesty about the place. Perhaps now it was only that of evil’s corruption. The rain outside echoed against the vaulted ceiling, the thunder of the storm reduced only to a muffled echo and its lightning sent shattered images of the stained glass windows above across the ransacked foyer.  
  
“Where do we go from here?” Kaz was awestruck at the grandeur design of the Castle, not afflicted by the faint wisp of death that lay in every direction. “The Castle is huge, has anybody even been in here before?”  
  
They all shook their heads, the Prophet preferring to scratch his at the same time with his ladle. “Well, if we follow standard architecture, the throne room should not necessarily be that far. Either on this same floor or a few above, held strong by other small corridors and combative halls.” Yazstromo walked past the luring shadow of the chandelier, wary that it could be set to fall and crush any dense enough to take in its golden allure. Turning around and observing the ceiling and drawing in air with his finger, he continued to show deep concentration.  
  
“But since the Royal family affiliates themselves with a sense of Divine Right,” Tap spoke up, showing an almost excited smile behind her words. “The Castle’s heart could be designed in respect to appeasing the Gods, like a sanctuary. This would be the foyer, beyond those doors,” she pointed to the far end of the entrance hall at a pair of splintered wooden doors, “would be series of reception areas, grounds to act like antechambers.”  
  
“And the winding walls of defence and lesser halls would lead to the Castle’s Devir, the King’s chambers and the throne room.” Yazstromo smiled at Tap as they had formulated a basic idea of their upcoming floor plan, the angry storm outside seemed to grow with their delays. “Should we take the chance?”  
  
“I don’t think we have any other choice. We’ll find him eventually, I can feel him haunting the chambers here, waiting.” The Deliverer continued forward, unimpressed with the imagery around her, only to be more disgusted as she opened the decimated doors to the next hall.  
Several chandeliers lay smashed to pieces across the tiles, their mosaics covered in the same words as the town’s cobblestones had been laced with. Somehow the candles remained lit, the room merely dim with flickering fire light. The portraits of all the previous monarchs of Hyrule lay either face down on the floor or had their canvas ripped to shreds. Outlines of what could only be Arivis’s face had been crudely scratched into the stone walls at each empty frame.  
  
“Fancy that, he’s made himself a home here.” Yazstromo shuffled along past the boring gazes of the etchings’ eyes, which he realized had been coloured by dried blood. “Don’t expect he gets a lot of visitors, do you?” His attempt at brightening the mood was swallowed as the next chamber, smaller and with a much lower ceiling, was almost pitch black. A lone iron clamped lantern hung in the centre, a violet flame dancing solemnly. The bodies of other patrons and knights that had rebelled from the nearby Guild Tower had been dumped on the edges of the room, barely visible in the spectrum of light. Lines of blood laced across the floor in uneven patterns and flaked wherever normal traffic had once been through the corridor.  
  
Naomi shook her head as they passed the lamp and spoke quietly. “If I wasn’t already well aware, I would think that Arivis has conquered Crandall twice over...” She moved a lone wing out in front of her as if trying to reach for something that should have been there. “He’s cast a curse from here forward; I can only relate it to the one Mervil spoke of the last time, when he managed his way into the Demon’s stronghold. It tries to remove your spirit by blanketing your hopes, robbing you of strength for however long the trek is ahead. As much as I never have before, I wish Death was here among us to show what conquers this sort of magic.”  
  
She nodded to show that she only spoke of the spell in a dangerous overtone, that it would concern them not unless they were attacked for the remainder to the throne room. Both Tap and Yazstromo seemed to feel an unwelcome weakness fall over them, their pose much less confidant, their faces even less vibrant in the opposing face of circumstance. The bandit went among his business as usual, following on the tail end with Naomi, supporting herself with her spear, heading through the small door ahead.  
  
The air beyond was stuffy, smelling of rot and a sort of exotic incense. Maybe it was merely the same unpleasant odour. But to their surprise, the small entryway expanded out into a much larger room, its vaulted ceilings merely shadows reaching high above them. And it was here the remainder of the vassals had been left, their bodies mutilated, charred or hanging from the rafters above. Kaz could almost swear he had returned to the condemned island among the Oracle Isles in Crandall. It appeared they could have been right about the Demon and the Warrior.  
  
Except these people were innocent.  
  
In the near blackness of the windowless room, only two torches marked the entrance into the throne room. Their journey within the Inner Chambers was short-lived; the deserted castle echoed their words and footsteps, and most of all, their worries. All their trials before had been in preparation of this moment, the Deliverer could only put faith upon Mervil keeping to whatever he had planned. The Prophet, Innocent, and Redeemed would have to trust in her, something she wasn’t able to accept.  
  
Reaching forward, she inhaled deeply, throwing the doors open into the waiting arms of the throne room. Into the waiting arms of a figurehead of a Death she could truly loathe.  
  
“I was beginning to doubt you would come.” Violet lanterns sprang to life down the long hallway, stopping short of the final few steps to its end. The doors behind them slammed shut, triggering another spell that sent the torches into a more intense blaze, lighting the other extreme dimly. Rain spattered against the opaque stained glass windows which were partially covered by moth claimed draperies. The Demon’s eyes gazed down across at them, wide and ominous. “And so you have herded to my own grounds. Do you bear hopes at besting me with less numbers and within my own dominion?”  
  
Queer laughter resonated down the chamber. With adjusted eyes, Yazstromo could see that a pedestal to the left of the black throne sported what could only be the glass bow he had foolishly traded for an audience with the king. And of the actual throne, he could only express how imposing it now looked. The Staves that the villain had collected now acted like support bars, struck at each of the chairs arms, rising high in their glory. The Staff of Suns was in his right hand, the Staff of Moons in the other.  
  
“Never would I have imagined that the traveller you are, Naomi, would bring you across my steps again. After my lapse thanks to your dear and departed director, these hundreds of years have brewed a most terrible vengeance.” The white slash of the Demon’s mouth grew more agape as he shifted in his seat; the unexpected movement was almost too much to bear as he could strike with a mere thought. “But you would know that far too well.”  
  
“We’ve come here to stop you, whatever quarrelling occurred back in Crandall matters not.” The Rito seethed, clenching her weapon tightly in hidden fury. It was odd; he seemed so less formidable now than he had before. Hyrule’s unspectacular marvel of defiance must have been to blame, it did not stoke his might or his interest like her kingdom had.  
  
Arivis stood, letting his hands linger on the two rods in front of him before letting his long fingers trace away. “That isn’t true at all, girl. To me, two thousand years is nothing. My goal remains as it did back then, and my rivals, well...” An expression of glee crossed the Demon’s face, holding out his hands and snapping fingers back as he hummed in his own special mockery.  
  
“You bastard! You can’t play with lives like they are yours to control!” Tap boasted from behind Kaz, her short sword being pulled from her tunic.  
  
“You forget, Innocent. If I have the power, then I will bend the world to my control. Perhaps you should have sought more condolences with the beliefs of your moody chief. Benevolent Gods are merely a fleeting fallacy.” A dark smile crossed his face as he descended one of the steps, lining his tall figure with that of Naomi a few metres away. “When I walk among the flock, I am the only creature with such heralded might.”  
  
Thunder boomed above them, rattling the throne room slightly. Arivis snapped his fingers and a rushing wave of heat blasted over the four, the Staff of Suns gripped tightly in his hands. “I can feel it here, Naomi. If you hand it over my sympathies for your fate will not go unheard. I can send you back if you want.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Don’t play games with me!” The room shook again as Arivis bellowed, enraged for merely a moment before collecting himself swiftly. “Give me Mervil’s Spellbook and I will hand you your freedom. These others are bound to this world, unlike the both of us.”  
  
“Well I can’t do that, I don’t have it.” Naomi folder her arms, her spear nearly slicing across Kaz’s calculating face; he barely avoided it.  
  
“Insolent liar!” The violet flames around them burst with excitement, changing from royal purple to a deep black and back again. “If you will not cooperate, I have no other choice but to force my hand. It will be mine whether you desire so or not.” Another column of air passed over them, knocking them down the few steps they had ascended from the foyer. The wall behind them contorted in black flames, spinning shut in a magical seal of brick and fire. A faint outline of the Demon’s symbol etched itself in iron.  
  
“If you want to test me, then so be it! The power of your Prophecy will wane with your last breaths!” Lining the Staff of Suns horizontally in front of him, Arivis fired a pillar of intense heat, watching them immediately spread in the narrow chamber. With a wave of his free hand the drapes were lifted to display the various designs of the throne room windows, letting the light of the storm dance freely across the ornate rugs.  
  
Yazstromo was first to act, throwing another explosive projectile only to watch as the Demon crushed it into dust, sending a pressure wave through the air as retaliation. Promptly knocked off his feet, the Scholar watched his ladle clatter down the steps and Smoosh a handful of vases before coming to a spinning halt. Vases. Scurrying to his feet while the Demon laughed at the dodging forms of the others, he retrieved his weapon and leapt up the stairs.  
  
“Catch!” Drawing Arivis’s attention back to him, Yazstromo hurled the beautiful vase he had pocketed from the Silver Tower. Caught off guard, the pottery shattered across the Demon’s face, leaving a more than inviting opening. Yazstromo heaved back his bat and swung as hard as he could, smashing Arivis square in the chest, the force sending him stumbling backward in a dazed state. Only a tarnished key lay among its contrasting container. The Scholar quickly retrieved it and was brought back to the situation in an array of flustered action.  
  
“Grab them!” Naomi called over to Tap, who was nearest to the throne. She clambered forward to relinquish the Staff of Moons from its holster, only to watch it dematerialize in her hands. The glass bow however, did not. Arivis swung wildly back to her, both of his weapons in hand and a mirthful look upon his face as she realized her inventory contained a single arrow.  
  
A raised arm sent a dazzling beam of white light in her direction, only for it to be deflected by the curve of Yazstromo’s ladle as it flailed for another strike. Vanishing into thin air, the Demon’s laugh was covered in a toxic tone, an annoyed and loathsome one. The lank figure of Arivis emerged from the darkness, standing upon his seat, holding both keys aloft.  
  
“What petty attempts. At least give me a fight!” Holding the two staffs to his extremes, he smiled as Tap tried to concentrate her way into splitting her arrow, but was coming up short. Yazstromo was preparing to shield himself and the bandit, with Naomi standing defiant to his right. The staves fired off, sending magic smashing into the walls to either side, spraying mortar in every direction; Arivis leapt into the air and performed a downward arcing of his arms, sending a wave of both spells down across the throne room. There was no defying it.  
  
Yazstromo’s shield of cutlery sprayed out behind him as his backside met cold stone once more; Kaz luckily had been swept from his feet before the onslaught of knives. The nearest window became better acquainted with Tap’s back as she was blown into it, cracking its design of the Royal Insignia. Naomi’s attempt at rising to the rafters did not come to fruition; she spiralled and crashed through the wooden supports of the second throne room’s vestibule.  
  
“Show me why you fight! Show me why you think you have a chance!” Arivis continued sending waves of dampened magic down the room, keeping the four pinned in place. “If Hyrule is worth saving, then do it!” Laughter carried out among the hall as he watched them struggle back to their feet from his attacks. It echoed among the thunder and mocked them as they reconvened in a haphazard formation. “This will not end well for you. The power will be mine.”  
  
Clasping the two rods like blades, the Demon’s eyes sparkled a moment before his legs sprang forward. Sprinting toward them and pulling his arms back, he went in for the kill. Abruptly the blockade behind them exploded in a flood of twisting flame. A figure consumed by fire blasted into the room, completely in shadow despite its surroundings. A protruding scythe swung out in a blink of an eye and slammed across the attack Demon. Arivis was blown back across the room, crashing into this throne, the Staff of Moons clattering to the floor below and debris pouring out from the hard impact.  
  
“What heresy is this?!” It felt like the entire floor beneath them shifted with the foe’s anger. Infuriated the Demon burst up from his temporary burial, his smile a terrifying scowl. As his eyes set upon Mervil, standing immediately cross from him, his weapon morphing into a flaming sickle, the scowl disappeared into an indiscernible expression. “This... this cannot be.” The air in the room grew hot and thick, that around Arivis seemed to contort to his emotions.  
  
“You cannot deny what is in front of you, Arivis.” Mervil replied coolly, his hood just barely hung above his eyes.  
  
“I watched you die. You were reduced to nothing beneath my feet.” The shock almost seemed to break Arivis’s rage and his spirit, a solemn line and rounded eyes showed his current neutrality. Or at least was convincingly executed. “No matter. This is only one setback. One more bloodied corpse upon my path.” A smile cracked the Demon’s face as he watched Mervil’s stance stiffen at the words. “Your memory impresses me to all lengths.”  
  
“You will not do to this kingdom as you had to mine, Arivis.” The Warrior looked over his shoulder as the others nodded to him, showing various signs of surprise and relief to see him. “I will not allow it.” A sword now flickered forth from his palm, long and narrow in its blade.  
  
As the Demon regained his confidence, he struck the Staff of Suns across the carpet beneath him, arching out a boundary of charred carpet. “If Gods will not descend to end my rule, and nor has any man, then try to keep me from what should rightfully be mine!” Almost like a quick fire draw, Arivis darted backward and unleashed a torrent of searing energy toward the crowd, the four dispersed with Mervil battering the magic away with a shield spell called from his book in hand.  
  
A rogue strand of light fired off from Mervil’s flank; torn from concentration he watched as Kaz scooped up the fallen Staff of Moons and promptly fired off a round into Arivis’s ill prepared torso. From thin air Yazstromo came bearing his ladle, smashing the Demon again with a flitter of a chuckle. Tap was still fumbling with the glass contraption she was now reduced to, her expression wild and contorted.  
  
“There is nothing you can do to stop inevitability, Mervil!” Arivis sent a destructive wave of energy out from his body, knocking back his attackers to a farther radius. The spectrum of the various windows lit up with the magical storm outside, at this rate it appeared it would never end.  
  
“But I can stop you from running your mouth!” Tap pulled back the crossbow and ran forward, the loaded arrow victoriously glowing brightly. With a flick of the switch it fired the headless projectile as it split into thousands of sharp glass tubes. They screamed through the air and drew Arivis up from the ground, pinning him upon the western wall. Kaz fired another shot from the Staff of Moons as the Demon began to pull himself free, dazing him long enough for Mervil to strike. Heaving a slab of earth, the Warrior flicked his wrist and sent it crashing into the Demon; the throne room wall buckled and sent the creature tumbling out into the central courtyard. Wet and relentless wind snuffed out the lanterns inside, pulling the olden stench out into fresh air.  
  
Mervil stepped over the fallen stones, watching the form of the Demon push itself up without its arms the Staff of Suns swirling around him like a his own personal satellite. And above, the clouds churned relentlessly; black bulges swelled and consumed each other with variants of lightning racing through them and to the ground. Arivis was a heaving shadow among the grasses, various flowerbeds had been claimed by the wreckage, while others had wilted or were flooded with rain.  
  
“You should just give up.” Naomi flew out and landed by a patch of red roses, Tap and Kaz reluctantly stood behind Mervil with Yazstromo in front.  
  
“Give up? I have yet to lift a finger.” The Demon let out a curdling screech as he sent a blast of magic toward them, warping the rain around it and ripping the ground beneath. It smashed into another segment of the outer wall, sending it buckling against its foundation. Laughing, the creature rose into the night sky, taunting them with displays of his magical might. “With you gone I will obtain the Creator’s Orb, I will accomplish that which only I am capable of!”  
  
“Your twisted ideas will get you nowhere, Demon!” Mervil called, watching as his foe caused mindless havoc around the courtyard, blasting holes in walls and charring the bricks with his insignia. “Faciss was after the same thing and look what happened to him!”  
  
The mention of the first tyrannical ambition in Crandall caused a raucous guffaw to fall over the pouring rain. “Yes, the poor fellow was brought to justice by his own ignorance. Even your friends managed well against him to my amusement and surprise. Don’t look so shocked, I resurrected a mere caricature of Faciss’s strength and built my army through his allegiance. How pathetic that Crandall almost fell to a withered and dying Sorcerer before I had my turn! And even worse off for Hyrule, the soul of a lesser Demon able to conquer it under my guidance... What does that say for such a ‘mighty’ land such as this?”  
  
“With the Creator’s Orb under my control, I will be able to reassemble the might of my lineage, to return Faciss back to his proper form. I will take back a world that deserves to be lead by its true reflection; relentless and unforgiving, cruel and powerful gods!” Arivis’s faint red eyes fell to Kaz and the Innocent, his smile widening. “With the keys in my grasp, you have delivered me my success!”  
  
In a flash he disappeared from midair, gaining a new footing in the centre of the courtyard, holding his arms open as if waiting for an attack. Mervil’s sword grew with the taunts, his temper flaring, and his face rough and compromised with hatred.  
  
“And first, I must pick off the fleas. To take of the final spoils of war.” A beam of black light shot out from an outstretched palm, cutting across the expanse toward a defenceless Tap. Kaz’s reflexes sprang to life, tackling the Innocent to the ground only to be claimed by the spell and thrown across the courtyard, sprawling out in a near unconscious daze. The Staff of Moons rolled among the drenched grass. It parted the material world for a moment and arrived in the waiting hand of its demonic master. Tap cried out as she ran to assess Kaz’s condition, his back was charred and blistered, his grip on reality fading.  
  
That was, until she slapped him and he moaned in pain. She stood up in front of him ignoring his swearing and held her glass bow in hand, taking a piece of the broken stained glass window and using it as an arrow replacement. The Innocent took aim while Arivis appeared to measure his own situation. When she fired he had vanished, reappearing mere inches in front of her, knocking the wind from her gut with a kick to her sternum, sending her crashing on top of an already unconscious bandit.  
  
“The Lament of Lovers. Such the sad tale to spin to be sure.” The Demon pressed the Staff of Moons point blank on the two shivering members and cocked his head in sardonic pleasure. A glowing spearhead abruptly ripping out through his chest took his focus away. “You sneaky inane magpie!” Arivis unleashed another shockwave of energy, knocking Naomi back out into the court. Yanking her spear from his body, he snapped it in two and threw the pieces at her crumpled form. “You cannot kill what is merely a manifestation, girl. I would have thought you all would have learned this by now!”  
  
Snapping his attention back to an unmoving Mervil, Arivis pointed the Staff of Suns to denote him. “And you are my last necessity. Give me the book and I will spare the monotony of our meetings once and for all. If you wish for the safety of your friends...”  
  
“You know there is no truth behind that facade of a promise. Don’t waste my time!” Mervil stood stark still, the Prophet unsure whether to act or not as the struggling couple to his left had slipped into a forced sleep and the Deliverer was attempting to regain her bearings. Violent strands of lightning met the earth between the two feuding parties, Arivis encroached among them.  
  
“One last chance, Mervil. Don’t continue making the mistakes and expecting others to take the fall. Already you’ve let slip the fates of two kingdoms and loved ones, friends and bare associates.” There was no longer a smile sliced into the Demon’s expressions, his taste for games running short and his temperament along with it. “You have nothing else to fight for, you will either concede or I will have to wipe what remains of you and this legend from the face of the earth. I am fine with either way.”  
  
“If I may speak on behalf of the majority,” Yazstromo leapt from his perch, nearly losing his footing as one of his feet were nearly claimed by the shifting mud. Pulling himself upright with his ladle, the Prophet smiled. “I think it best you run up an alley and holler ‘fish’.” Before either of the two had time to question just what had left his mouth, his secondary plan for distraction had worked. A glowing fork was jettisoned out of the end of his ladle, exploding on impact in a cloud of thick smoke.  
  
Mervil leapt high into the air, sending a river of sharpened stones from his open palm; they tore through the air and into the opaque area below. Landing beside the Prophet, he waved his hand at their feet hardening the earth with his magic. “This should make things a tad bit easier don’t you think?” He snapped his fingers and his weapon disappeared, the Warrior shifted his Spellbook to his right hand.  
  
“Why yes, I was wondering when you’d actually do something.” Yazstromo smirked and grabbed onto the waiting hand to his right. “Shall we?”  
  
Rocketing into the air in a sphere of flame, Mervil hovered with the Prophet in midair for a moment, dodging a beam of magic from an angered Arivis below. The Demon blew the smoke away from around him and attempted to pursue, his eyes glittering brightly. Yazstromo under the grip of the Wanderer nodded in agreement at their impromptu plan. Heaving him in a few shaking rotations of a circle, Mervil released the elder man at the same moment the orb of flame covering them was joined by another shield of utensils.  
  
Yazstromo freed his newest weapon into the mayhem of spinning objects as he sped forward. The ladle pierced through the cutlery screen and Mervil’s fire, merely sailing past an even faster Arivis. The Demon laughed as he pulled back a fist to Smoosh through the incoming Prophet projectile but was suddenly exercising an expression of shock as he disappeared from sight. Turning a moment too late, the projectile containing Yazstromo slammed into him, careening together from the collision until Arivis regained his composure, stopping dead in the air. He hauled the spinning vessel around and around, letting it fly toward the nearest courtyard wall, watching yet again as it vanished from sight.  
  
“You’ve learned a few more tricks, haven’t you, Mervil?” The Demon called out, holding his arms open as if ready for a challenge. Surveying the sky he finally noticed the hovering figures of a cloaked figure and the familiar ball Yazstromo now called home. “But they won’t save you; the Creator’s Orb will be mine, its power will coarse through me and I will be able to claim control of any world I please!”  
  
Arivis watched as the two remaining members volleyed among each other, initiating the next phase of whatever plan they managed to formulate. The flames around the two men became brighter and changed to an ocean blue as they began to circle around the courtyard at ever increasing speeds. Mervil continued to pelt the ground with sharpened stones as he sent spires of fire back and forth between him and the Prophet to form a foreboding web.  
  
“How about you dodge this?” Yazstromo crowed from above. His ladle acted upon its own, flying back up to its master. “Any time you’re ready, Mervil!” The spinning sphere of silverware along with its eccentric director was shot out from the circular path. Fluttering in the wind, the fire around him disappeared and with a voluptuous expulsion of air, all of the utensils were sent down in an inferno of shattering metal.  
With one last motion, Yazstromo battered Arivis from the air and into the nearest flower patch, being teleported back up to the web of growing magic with Mervil.  
  
“’When the might of the Demon returns, the Chosen will arise and their power shall wipe his existence from the Realm.’” Mervil began quoting from his open Spellbook as Arivis straightened himself below and the two men stopped revolving around the garden. “’Among them, the blood of Innocence, the craft of Delivery, the intelligence of a Scholar, the foresight of a Prophet, the guiding hand of a Compass, the facade of Fallacy, the strength of Redemption, the discovery of Inquisition, and the rage of a Warrior. To their hands, the glory of evil’s defeat shall be had.’” Holding his right hand aloft and pulling its covering, Mervil directed the combing of the colourful spell in his wake. The black glove was swept by the blowing winds of the storm above them, growing more intense as time went on, a manifestation of Arivis’s tumult of emotion. “And the Demon will be felled and condemned for eternity. He shall be The Fallen of the Prophecy, by the whims of Fate and Providence. Judgment and Justice will be won on Dies Irae!’”  
  
Upon speaking the last syllable, Mervil made a dramatic planting motion with his phasing hand, sending the accumulation of energy down to the dazed enemy below. But it was a moment too late.  
  
“Enough of this!” Arivis’s voice erupted like thunder, bouncing off of the walls and overpowering any other noise. The remaining stained glass windows exploded out into the court, raining over the unmoving bodies of the Innocent and Redeemed. Throwing the two Staves to either side, the Demon unleashed a torrent of lightning in response, his features covered with mirth and fury. A screeching filled the night air as the now red bolts purged the spell Mervil had created, absorbing it as its own. In a flash it exploded before reaching its target, a pair of electrical jets carved the air from either side, blasting the Warrior and Prophet up against their resting walls before realizing what was going on.  
  
“Over and over again, I am being thrown attempts at my defeat, at the denial of my goals.” The Demon snapped his fingers and chains appeared in either hand, connecting to the falling figures of his enemies; they bore an ominous red glow. Swinging his wrists they fell to the power of another field of dampening magic, draining them of confidence and gusto. “I continue to be pelted with words of a long forgone legend that bears no significance in this world, nor will it ever! Words written on parchment centuries ago as a joke to pass the time and nothing more; your sick devotion nearly draws pity from my soul.” Arivis wrapped the chains around his wrists to gain more control as he proceeded to Smoosh his foes into the walls of the courtyard while they meekly tried to free themselves.  
  
“And despite my defiance of it, you continue to cause havoc in my world. You try to overthrow a power that is far beyond your own. There is only one way to deal with an unnecessary revolution; extermination!” The Prophet and Warrior were dragged along the ruined walls as Arivis barked in horrific anger and echoing laughter. “I am Arivis; you will swear fealty at my feet and cower beneath my gauntlet!” Mervil was released at a high speed, crashing into the upper floor of the castle’s west wing, where as Yazstromo was yanked hard down into the hardened earth below. The red chains shattered in a flurry of molten links, spraying across grasses too wet to bother lighting in flame.  
  
The Demon retrieved his weapons and proceeded forward as the two remaining men tried to gather their senses. Without any warning he fired at the Prophet, sending him crashing to the ground again with a yelp of surprise. A swing of the Staff of Suns lit the area behind him with biting violet flames as Arivis’s corrupting power had begun to claim it.  
  
“I gave you all the chance to stand down in the course of my reign, but no, you would not listen. You all with your obscene faith in texts and unworthy leaders. I struck down your friends and all who stood in my way over the course of millennia! But no, you still refuse to accept that I am but the only God that stands among this realm!” Spinning around he fired blindly at Mervil who had barely escaped its damage as he rolled down into the courtyard once more. The rain of brick from the explosion merely fell like the water and world around them. “What will it take, Mervil? What will it take to show that there has never been any hope for these pathetic lands? Must I kill every last person before you will surrender?”  
  
“I would never swear allegiance to you, nor would I ever kneel at your feet.” Mervil shook his head, trying to stop the immediate area around him from spinning. The irony did nothing to help him. “If I was still the only remaining force standing in your way, I would never back down.”  
  
“You will kneel, Wanderer. I will wipe your pathetic sense of justice from the face of the earth. I will take everything from you!” Arivis’s eyes flashed, sending a wave of magic in its wake, sprawling Mervil up against the crumbling garden walls at the far end. Vanishing in a flare of light, the Demon reappeared at the coughing Prophet’s location. Striking both the Staff of Moons and Suns down to either side, Arivis closed his fingers around the confused looking man and lifted him up to his face. Yazstromo’s legs dangled weakly as his struggling had been reduced to nearly nothing.  
  
“The Prophet, the Scholar, whatever you have been ‘destined’ to be in this sick game... I would have never expected such bravado from someone so small and frail, withered and aged. But wizardry can do wonders for the world, for both good and evil.” Tipping Yazstromo’s head with thin fingers, Arivis matched the angle of his eyes and smiled widely. “Without you, things might not have got off to their raucous start back at the Autumn Festival. And without you, none of these people would be here, as you too led them upon the edge of oblivion. It saddens me that such a bright mind as yours must meet his end here. There will be no Death to save you this time.”  
  
From the vicinity of the Warrior’s tattered body, a shimmering beam of light shot across the short distance and phased over Arivis’s back. A look of absolute surprise and a momentary fear commanded his expression but it soon turned into a twisted smile as he immediately dropped the near unconscious Scholar at his feet. Mervil stood shakily on his feet, holding a long sparkling Rod with an extended arm. It was gold and adorned with various coloured jewels, commanded by an impressive looking orb at its tip that was held tightly with three silver claws.  
  
And Arivis began to laugh at Mervil’s agony ridden face.  
  
“You really believe you can use a Holy weapon such as that, Mervil? I thought you had nothing left but cobwebs in your head, but this is most delightfully pathetic. A man who fancies himself Death, tries to use the Rod of Purity? If your heart is so noble and worthy of such power, than I can’t even begin to imagine what miracles I can create.” Arivis’s queer and inharmonious laugh filled the courtyard, his storm above twisting from the sudden change of his emotions. “Did you really expect a power you can’t even use to be your Deus ex Machina? How laughable, indeed!” He raised his hand to combat the pitiful magic the Warrior had managed to release from the Staff he pocketed from the Construct those weeks ago. It had pained him to enter that tower, but to him it felt a necessity. So many years...  
  
“But I will save you for last; I will enjoy watching you squirm just as you had at the loss of others you cared for. I can tell that beyond the investment of their power, there are some personal feelings to be had among this sad little ensemble you brought together.” The Demon redirected himself at the half standing Prophet behind him, a hunched figure among the weapons he had killed thousands to maintain.  
  
A sense of defeat was unnervingly upon Mervil’s step. But as the two keys began to react abnormally in the short distance in front of him, it turned into flailing doom. Arivis’s hand slowly fell back to his side as he watched the two orbs pulsate around an already confused looking Yazstromo. A sound that could only be likened to the crashing of a tidal wave, swept out as the two contrasting weapons became spires of light, cutting through the storm high above. The Prophet felt an intense heat on his back as he quickly pulled his staff from its sling; the walking stick too was emitting the same strange light. It all made sense now, the Prophet’s remaining destiny. He was the final key.  
  
Light shot out among the courtyard grasses, the rain from above ceasing in a spectacular storm of pure magic. The same white glow tore through the earth, tracing perfect lines in cross hatching and straight patterns, stretching far in both directions. Arivis backed away from the three spires of light and watched the shape around him take form as recognizable only to three of them. The Crandallian coat of arms lay across Hyrule Castle gardens, etched out entirely in light. The Rod of Purity with two dragon wings extending from where the orb met with its handle, boasted to the heavens.  
  
The three keys ceased their blinding light show and the ground beneath their feet rumbled by some unknown force. Out of the corner of his eye, Mervil watched Tap and Kaz slowly regain a small sense of awareness, Naomi still out of luck. Yazstromo suddenly was struck back as if from a devastating shock, but under his feet the grass and earth parted, a solid stone pedestal rising up with the same bright glow as the emblem around it. The Staff of Moons and Suns both pulsated as the central pillar stood erect as a simple but magnificent monument. A small and glorious metal chest rested upon it.  
  
“The Creator’s Orb...” Arivis’s direct look of shock and awe slowly lost its edge, his features turning wicked and dark at the finality his goal now possessed. Sprinting across the grasses something caught his leg and bashed him hard against the ground, pulling him away in a single jerk despite his cursing. He thrashed about under the powerful magic that was stretching out as a black mass from Mervil’s Spellbook. “Cease this at once, I will have it! It is mine to control!” A strand of lightning shot by the Warrior’s ear as he leapt over the spitting Demon and landed between him and his goal.  
  
“I will not allow this. I cannot allow this.” Mervil straightened his back, summoning his familiar Scythe into his hand, placing his fallen glove on his cursed one as if to keep things under control. “For two thousand years I have waited for the legend to come true. I am its Warrior and it is by Design that you fall to me.”  
  
“So be it.” Arivis leapt back to his feet, his arm shifting to its usual scimitar state, sharp and black as night. The unnatural darkness seemed to both gain and lessen as what seemed to be dawning light attempted to severe the control of the dark clouds above. With his usual agility, the Demon sprang forward, putting full force in a circular spin, gliding his blade across Mervil’s weapon with a sickening thud.  
  
Falling into shadows, Mervil stood ready for a surprise attack from any flank, holding the normal Scythe in both hands. Arivis leapt up directly behind him, only to watch as his strike failed with a return of his foe’s own curved blade. Ritual sparks and flash showered over the Wanderer as he was knocked back from the force of the blow. “Stop hiding and fight me on fair grounds!” Mervil barked out into the chaos of the Demon’s damning laughter and constant teleportation tricks. He could taste blood in his mouth from the blows earlier, his arms tired and his body exhausted from Arivis’s chains. Even now if there was a fair fight, the Warrior felt slated to failure.  
  
“A man should never hold back his true nature, Mervil. If I am a devil, I will behave like one. If I am a jester of my trade, I will entertain. If I am to be feared, I will earn it.” Arivis continued to jump about, as if trying to sneak past Mervil to his prize where the Scholar lay stunned by the release of the seal, and Kaz and Tap merely stunned by the change in scenery. “I would not want to go beyond my own standards, Wanderer, how could I look myself in the mirror?”  
  
A blast of energy took Mervil in the back, sending him in an uncontrollable spin across the garden, the wall acting as his final barrier. The numbing of the magic spread through his body as he struggled to stand, finding that he could not. Arivis reappeared before him, the slash of a smile laughing at him, his blade retracting into his arm. “And now, you get to watch.” Mervil screamed out in rage, trying to move his body under the powerful magic that had anchored him there. “Now, now, you wouldn’t want to scare the children, now would you?”  
  
Arivis cackled, vanishing and reappearing near the pedestal. It rose proudly among the array of the Crandallian insignia, standing tall at the connection between the wings and Staff, waiting for someone to claim its prize. “Faciss will return to my side with this. I will know limitless power and ability. I will have reign over worlds far larger and numerous than this one. Like Hyrule they will fall under the strength of a Demon’s wrath! I will Rise more powerful than ever before! The Prophecy speaks lies; the Fallen is that which acquires all his desires.”  
  
Reaching out, the glee the Demon expressed had crossed to a maniacal overtone, spreading out like his own presence. As it graced the chest, it suddenly disappeared, being carried up and away from its original home, snatched by the diving talons of Naomi. “No!” He stumbled forward, ripping the Staff of Suns from the ground and knocking the pedestal over, where it nearly crushed the shivering form of an immobilized Yazstromo. Arivis raised his weapon high, his arm shaking with passion.  
  
A jettison of heat left its column the moment a black mass flung itself at the Demon, knocking him down and jarring his shot. The torrent of fire screamed across Naomi’s left wing as she attempted to fly away, knocking her down from the sky back to the ravaged Castle grounds below. Mervil and Arivis tumbled in a ball of locked masses. The Warrior pounded his fist into the ground, grinding them a halt, Arivis flat on his back. Trying to get back up, Mervil smashed his fist across the Demon’s face, watching him laugh at the effort.  
  
“You already know it just as well as I, lambasting me will get you nowhere.”  
  
“Shut up!” He pinned his foe down and continued to slam his fists over and over into an unchanging and barely affected face. But all it did was make the Demon berate his efforts even more, mouth wide with mirth at the attempts. He stopped when Mervil held his scythe down at his throat, causing him to eye him precariously. Heaving it up into the air as if going to strike it down at any moment.  
  
“What are you going to do? Kill me? You’ve already tried that before and look where it got you!” Arivis giggled, pushing up against the little strength Mervil could spend keeping him on the ground. “I am a much greater force than you will ever be. All you’d be doing is sending me back to that prison, and after two thousand more years, will you still be around to try to stop me?” Overly content, the Demon seemed almost lost to insanity as he spoke among his unending mockery. “You fail to realize that my role will always be that of the villain, Mervil. Of the nemesis of your own morals; I will follow you everywhere and with every fleeting thought. I am everything the hero shouldn’t be, but there are parts of you that we share. What does that say for your role? What Judgment can you pass when your own soul cannot decide?”  
  
“I will pass the only one that deserves to see the light of day.” Mervil’s glove vanished in a plume of fire, his scythe slowly being claimed with crackling flames among his phasing and immaterial hand. The power began to flow through the connection from his weapon and into his body, his eyes claimed by the same magic he manifested through him and his Spellbook. The Warrior’s face disappeared into shadow. He stood as a fiery shadow over his foe. And it was then Arivis watched as Death’s book swirled up and among them, its pages flying open with a blinding light. Mervil witnessed the soul and spirit break in his enemy’s eyes at his realization; their twinkle gone, leaving an indiscernible stare. “I will pass the Judgment of Vengeance! For the lives you have destroyed and the kingdoms you have ruined!”  
  
“No...” Arivis began to struggle fervently, trying to force himself out of the binding magic the towering figure above him had newly placed him in. “No! You can’t do this to me!”  
  
“Arivis, the Demon, the Fallen, creature of suffering and torment, cruelty and malevolence! I am here to pass forward the laments of thousands!” Mervil raised his glowing scythe high above his head, his eyes boring down into the screaming Demon’s face. “Those with souls that are not righteous, bloodied, I will not die until they are destroyed. I will never surrender in the face of false gods and demons, of sin and cruelty!”  
Swinging the menacing weapon in gouging motion, it tore through Arivis’s body, causing him to screech out in pain as a blazing scar hissed out into the cold air. “This is for my parents! For my brother, my sister, and all of my family that fell under your regime!” He brought his weapon back up into the air and sliced across the writhing body below him as he called out their names. “For the decimated peoples of Barron Village, Kham, and Altes City! King Harrik and the royal family! Joseph of the Bronze Construct, my comrades, and my friends!”  
  
“Stop, no!” The Demon’s cries went without response as Mervil’s biting weapon carved through him at every mention.  
  
“King Darik of Hyrule, the thousands you mindlessly slaughtered after your return! The citizens of Kokiri Forest, Goron City, and Zora’s Domain! For Railin, Allanon, and Galysses!” The others watched as Mervil’s book spun faster and faster over the anarchy between the two figures. Magic swirled out with every rise and fall of the scythe, the Warrior’s movements increasing as he continued to scream out his markings. A pair of black wings flashed in and out of existence as Death continued his judgment. The earth trembled with every blow, Arivis’s limbs flailing outward, trying to stop him.  
  
“For the entire kingdom of Crandall, all you took away from it and its people. All that you destroyed and laid to ruins here in Hyrule and beyond. Taking away my home, my world, all the things I ever loved!” Arivis could only stare as Mervil’s form began to change into a more dark and suitable persona, the spreading wings fully materializing, marking his role as Death. The fire among his scythe became stronger, turning from red to black, his eyes changing on the same path with the loss of his temperament. His loss of control.  
  
“The centuries of torment I went through never knowing the taste of revenge, never repaying the debt you gave me!” Mervil’s voice distorted as he bellowed into the dawning light, the storm above dissipating, only to be replaced with the maelstrom of the Warrior’s rage. The number of markings were far exceeding for counting as Death continued relentlessly pounding his weapon into the Demon beneath him. Raising the scythe up, black with Death, the book stopped, completely perpendicular to Arivis’s face. “And this...” The Warrior stumbled for words, “this is for... for her...”  
  
But Mervil did not move, his voice reduced only to a whisper. His arms shook above him, almost demanding him to strike. But he seemed unable to force it. The swirling cloud of magic slowly disappeared, the wings fading away like they had never appeared, the black fire reduced to a faint blue aura around him. Arivis lay ragged under him, gasping for air, gripping onto the final strands of life. Mervil lowered his scythe and he stared blankly down into the fading eyes of his ageless tormentor.  
  
“You do not get a chance to be marked twice.” Slowly he moved away, glaring down at the near lifeless form of what had seemed so powerful moments ago, the calls for mercy still echoing in his mind. “I waited two thousand years for this moment, Arivis. To finally deliver unto you the pain of my soul and its torment. My only regret...” Mervil’s scythe fell from his hands like he had been defeated, what appeared to be tears beaded at his eyes. “Is that I can never repay you over the suffering of Crandall, that I can never make you understand or experience the pain and strife you caused through your malice.”  
  
Stepping forward and looking his foe in the eyes, Mervil’s face was expressionless. “Despite that, I and the memory of those lives you have tainted, can revel in one fact. That upon your death you shall never manifest in the world of man again, that you will never take another innocent life. That after this day, your day of reckoning and judgment, that your name, your memory, _you_, will be lost in history. You will be Forever Forgotten.”  
  
Arivis stretched out a shaking hand, his fingers strained and covered with what could only be likened to blood. It appeared he was not quite so invincible. A thundering from all sides shook the earth and contorted their surroundings, being pulled into the epicentre of the ragged and ravished chest of the shivering Demon. With a sudden discharge, black light sliced through the air from the pages of the floating book, cutting into the gathering area of magic. Arivis did not make a sound. The red of his eyes flashed brightly for a moment as if he were going to rise again, but they slowly faded into black; his body calmed, crumpled, and broken at Mervil’s feet.  
  
He was the Fallen.  
  
Winds carrying the chill of winter blew down from the clearing skies above, the stars gently fading as the Sun began to take dominion over the heavens and parting clouds. Dawn was breaking, Mervil and Arivis rested in the shadows of the western wall, merely a display of solid black against the crumbling stone. No one approached or said a word as they regained their footing, Yazstromo nursing his head, Naomi her wing and Kaz, Tap.  
  
The lights shining up through the grass were faded, overpowered by the natural ones from above, the pedestal lay in fragments across the Staff’s end. Still struck at a bizarre angle, the Staff of Moons pulsing blue aura faded, its twin lying off to the side of Mervil ceased its glow soon after. In a single strand of white smoke, Death’s weapon vanished from the ground, its owner seemingly planted in place, staring down at the lifeless body in his wake.  
  
“Are... are you okay?” Tap broke away from the comforting of a badly burned Redeemed, walking slowly into the faint light of the Emblem. For a moment there was no response, Mervil seemed just as lifeless as the maimed Arivis below him.  
  
“Why does it matter?” The Warrior stepped reluctantly back, as if he did not trust the cadaver or his own eyes. But this was it; this was his moment of Redemption. Why did he feel so dead, so empty? “Hyrule has been spared of its fate. What more could you want of me?” Turning around he began to walk toward the fallen pedestal, keeping his head hung low, barely exposing his motionless face. Mervil seemed almost feeble and weak, but at the end of his short trip, he stood erect, tall in a waving mass of black robes.  
  
“Mervil, it’s over.” A struggling Naomi picked up the chest she had nearly lost her life for, her damaged wing black and covered in a stinging wound. “You don’t have to carry those thoughts any more, those regrets and pains.” She placed her wing on his back as he mechanically removed the Staff of Moons from the ground, holding it gingerly in his uncovered hand. Almost fearfully, she pulled his tilted head up to meet her gaze. For a moment his eyes were sullen and black as night, suddenly returning to his new shade of light blue and violet. “Arivis is dead.”  
  
The Wanderer removed her arm, acting like she hadn’t spoken a word; pushing her away as he swiftly turned and walked past the withered remains of the Fallen. “I know.” Mervil quickly relinquished the Staff of Suns, speaking in a laden tone, almost whispering. He raised his head to address them all, an almost pained look commanding his face, whatever facade he was keeping was full of holes.  
  
“Stop, it’s done.” Yazstromo saw a tense uprising in Naomi’s expression as she spoke, her pleading coming both from her voice and body.  
  
“I have.”  
  
“Then what are you doing?” Naomi stepped forward, attempting to push the remnants of the pedestal back into place, failing as it fell to powder in her free hand. “The battle is lost; there is nothing left to fight over. The Demon is gone, Mervil, let yours free.” A strained voice escaped, falling flat on the wind as Mervil placed the staves across his back where his scythe normally rested.  
  
“I am finishing this. I am ending what business is necessary. I will be taking these and casting them into wilderness and doubt. They will never be found again, I will ensure of this, their legend will fade away.” Walking up to her, standing at her approximate height, a bizarre emotion crossed his face. “If you want to go home, the Creator’s Orb is the only thing left of this world that can do that. We can use it a-,”  
  
“If two thousand years haven’t taught you anything yet, then remember this, Hyrule is my only home now.” She managed a small smile, looking into the blank return. “You should try to see it our way. You might like it. Take it, I don’t need it.” The Rito shoved the box into Mervil’s free hands, almost dropping it from the surprise.  
  
Shaking his head, he let the chest drop between them, turning around, leaving the group confused at his actions. “And if two thousand years have not taught you anything...” Mervil approached the tip of the glowing emblem, the orb of the Staff of Purity in his possession; it circled around a bed of purple roses. Reaching down, he ignored the thorns of the ancient Crandallian symbol and dug his hand into the churning mud. He pulled up, a small crystalline object rested in his palm, glowing a brilliant spectrum of white. “That I am far more prepared than you could ever be.”  
  
Mervil seemed to let the Creator’s Orb linger in front of him for a moment, as if tempting Naomi to change her mind, to follow through with an idea she had longed after for centuries. With no further response, he placed the omnipotent sphere into the pocket of his cloak and began to walk past them; the Crandallian coat of arms disappeared as he left its perimeter.  
  
“Where will you go?” The Redeemed approached Mervil as he entered the thin sliver of daylight that reached into the decimated courtyard.  
  
“The ends of the Earth, to prevent anything like this from happening again. No one will find these relics of Crandall.” Almost forcing the words out, Mervil continued. “They will be better off forgotten about. Just another set of memories that no one will recall...”  
  
“Will we see you again?” The Innocent chirped, still unsure at exactly what was going on inside his head. But no one could ever know that, as much as she had tried before. A dark glance came from over Mervil’s shoulder, he shook his head.  
  
“This will be our last meeting. My only wish is for our paths to never cross again, despite what we have been through.” The Warrior took two steps upon the fallen rubble of the throne room walls and turned around, surveying them all as they gazed at him warily. He moved among their eyes and set his own on Arivis’s decimated body, closing his fists tightly. “I can only hope that these wishes turn to be true; for the day we meet again will not be a happy one.”  
  
Mervil, as quickly as he had entered their lives the night of the Autumn Festival, disappeared from them in a cloud of smoke, his eyes closed through his parting words. The Scholar had seemed to step forward to deliver a question but was beset of the opportunity.  
  
“Well... what do we do now?” Kaz looked from an upset Tap to the confused faces of the Deliverer and Yazstromo.  
  
“I suppose that the only thing that remains is the freeing of the prisoners. The return of authority back to these walls.” The Prophet looked around at the sorry conditions they were now standing in, sighing in both awe and callous. “I heard that refugees managed to flee to the borders of neighbouring lands. I think they would be more than happy to receive this revelation, wouldn’t you?”  
  
At first no one spoke, autonomously following Naomi as she entered the charred remains of the throne room, the box still held in her hands as she mulled over the suggestion. “We can restore Hyrule to glory. But it will never be the same again.” She bowed her head and proceeded to sit on the steps leading to the lower foyer. “If only Crandall had been given such a chance. But this is not the time for that. This is the time to repay all those that we have lost, to carry out what they died to protect.” Naomi smiled, tears beading her eyes as she had the others join her. “As much as Mervil may not like it, he did something I would never have expected to come from a man like him. He gave compassion where it was due and to who it was due. We need to honour his actions as much as the others. I wished more than anything that this moment would quell that unspeakable vengeance...” Her tears began to stream down her face, silently showing she was agreeing with all of them. Mervil’s remorse remained eternal.  
  
Turning her head to either side she watched as the others solemnly nodded their heads, they would do this together, for everyone who had been lost and for everyone that had fought to change it.  
  
“Wait, if Mervil moved the Creator’s Orb, then what was in the chest?” Yazstromo’s attention was suddenly riddled with the curiosity, reaching with earnest at the container sitting in Naomi’s hands. He lifted the lid, half expecting a lightshow to arrange itself in response, sorely being disappointed. Inside upon a simple iron bottom laid a fist sized stone, irregular and dark against its grey backdrop. Naomi reached in and plucked it from its home, turning it over in her hands, it was unreasonably heavy. “Just a rock, pity.” The Prophet retracted his hand as quickly as his attention. “I think we should start moving on, hadn’t we? I know I wouldn’t want to be stuffed up in a cellar any longer than I had to be, I’m not sure about you charmers though.”  
  
Yazstromo descended to the blasted open entrance of the throne room, admiring the charcoal covered lining of the doorway, as if already forgetting what he had said. Slowly Kaz and Tap followed suit, waiting for the Deliverer to stand. Naomi shook her head and placed the chest aside, the stone rolling around. She went to stand but something strange caught her eye. As the others exited out into the Inner Chambers once more, its dampening magic gone with its master, she removed the stone again, turning it over in her hands.  
  
Moving over to one of the last surviving stained glass windows, she peered down at the rough object in her hand, gold light falling across it. Etched across in ancient Crandallian letters, she read quietly to herself.  
  
_I have no need for this. Please, someone take it away. _  
  
Naomi shifted her gaze up from the stone and out into the ruined courtyard, still picturing the towering form of Death as he stood over Arivis. She knew his pain was far from gone and she almost couldn't bear it. Yet, it all made sense now. Faint snow began to fall as an almost eternal Autumn came to an end. Hyrule was finally at peace, but it had taken and caused so much. She hoped that it would be worth it.  
  
Tightening her grip around Mervil’s stone heart, she placed it into her pocket. Naomi smiled sadly as the dawn light overtook the entirety of Hyrule Castle, faint lines of snow resting on the windows.  
  
“You’ll need it back someday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original note:  
Forever Forgotten: A Tale of Scorned Souls
> 
> The End
> 
> To be continued in...
> 
> [Image for: [Forever Forgotten: To Dust](https://imgur.com/RZaTsoz)]


	30. Epilogue: Kaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original notes:  
So, yeah, it's an epilogue. Yes, we decided not to leave you completely in the dust for the rest of the year! Anyways, each epilogue is on a character (this one is Kaz's, next is someone else, etc.). I'm not sure if everyone will get one, but at least those that alive may. Anyways, have fun and enjoy! :p
> 
> Epilogue: Kaz

The sun had yet to appear above the horizon and only the first glimpse of greyish pre-dawn light had touched it. Few souls would dare to be up at this hour, and fewer still than usual because of the recent events that had fell on this land. But one man, dressed in a simple woollen tunic of brown and dark breeches, made his way on horseback across the quiet landscape of Hyrule Field. No one knew that Kaz, the once thief and the Redeemed, had left this morning, and he had left no note of apology or farewell. Not even to Tap. He knew they wouldn’t understand, especially not the Innocent. She really did take well to that name.  
  
He stopped the bay on a hill overlooking the still partially ruined Castle Town, hazel eyes reflecting the pale lamplight from the lantern he had brought. For a moment, Kaz wanted to make the horse turn back and return to his friends and beg them for forgiveness or permission or something, but he shook his head. He had to do this or forever stay in the country he had loved but betrayed with the manner he had once lived his life. _Even if Naomi is right about the whole thing_, Kaz grimaced, but he knew that she couldn’t be, he had to prove to himself that he wasn’t the scum he’d been before the journey.  
  
He kicked the horse’s shanks and gently touched his crystal bow with a hand that was roughened by days and weeks of fighting against the forces of evil. Some little kid was probably going to look up to him as a hero someday and want to be just like “Kaz the Great”. They’d probably even make songs and exaggerated stories about the greatness of the “heroes” and heroines. Kaz would laugh if he’d ever found legends where Mervil was called a “gentleman”, he could even see them doing that. People would rather have a kind Mervil than a man who believed he was a living Death.  
  
“Stupid Hylians,” he said in disgust, then, blinked when he realized he was one of them. “We always want lies instead of real people in our legends. I bet the hero was—”  
  
“Wow…” Kaz leaped and swore under his breath. It was her, he did not have to look back to know it was the Innocent dressed in her bright red clothes with her pointy, red hat. Her streaming black hair seemed to make her heart-shaped face hang in shadow at this time of morning. He wondered if she had even had enough time to brush it this morning; she wasn’t what one would call an early riser. Sometimes it took five buckets of ice-cold water to wake her up.  
  
“You weren’t supposed to come.” He said coldly and with as much indifference as he could muster. “I left you guys."  
  
“Naomi noticed.” Tap said. “I think she never really let on to how good her hearing was.”  
  
“Really?” Kaz grinned, but quickly erased it from his expression. “I mean, I guess so.”  
  
“You’re not Mervil, Kaz.” Tap came closer; she rode a white mare with an arched neck. A beautiful steed, just like the girl who rode upon it, perhaps, the main difference was that the girl was perfect in not just beauty, but virtue too. “Why are you trying to be so much like him?”  
  
Kaz gasped slightly, but quickly closed his mouth and shook his head in denial. “I’m not trying to be like that son of Navi. He left everything and the only person who might have cared a little about him. And, no, I don’t mean me. That’s a sick idea, Tap.”  
  
She blinked. “What’s a sick idea?”  
  
“Never mind,” Kaz said. “It’s just sick, Tap, forget I said it.”  
  
“Oh, alright.” She sighed and Kaz was glad she did not question him about it. There were some things she would probably be better off never knowing, _by Navi, I wish I didn’t know that!_ Why did he have to have that stupid nightmare a week ago, twenty nights after they'd saved Hyrule? “But, isn’t that what you’re doing—I mean, aren’t you leaving everything and everyone and all your friends? You’re acting just like him! We actually do care—no, I actually care. You mean something to people, Kaz. Unlike that jerk.”  
  
“That’s nice and all, Tap, but that isn’t what I’m doing.” He stared at the horizon again. “It’s just…”  
  
“It’s just what you’re doing.” Tap concluded and Kaz glared. He wasn’t like that Mervil, didn’t she understand that? “I came out here because you needed some common sense knocked into you and I was the only one who could do it. Or would,” she added, quickly. “Naomi…”  
  
“Why didn’t Naomi come?” Kaz looked at her. “She’s pretty damn good at this kinda stuff too.” The Innocent turned her head away and sighed. “Well? Why didn’t she?”  
  
“I was hoping you didn’t ask that.” She kept her eyes away from his gaze. “She seemed fine with it! I couldn’t believe it, she didn’t care that you were leaving us. That dumb old Navi just let you go like…like she thought it was the right thing to do. Like she didn’t care one bloody thing about you.”  
  
Kaz stared blankly. “You…just…swore. Twice.”  
  
“You do it all the time,” She harrumphed. “Maybe I learned it from being around you too much, Mr. Kaz.”  
  
“That was formal,” he stared in disbelieve for a moment. “What’s your point, Tap? I’ve already made my decision and Naomi’s good with it. Listen, I’m not staying in Hyrule, because everyone who I cared about is dead and it isn’t the same place anymore.”  
  
“Maybe if we help it, it will.”  
  
“No we, Lady Tap.” He gave her a smile and took her hand in his; he noticed that tears were at the corners of her eyes. “You. Naomi. Maybe even Yazstromo. All of you guys. But I’ve gotta find my own place now and help in my own way. You know what I mean?”  
  
“I’m not sure that I want to. I’m not sure I get what you mean, you know, you’ve changed so much.” The Innocent’s smile lit her stunning face. “I don’t think I’d see you as that thief and whatever else if I didn’t know you.”  
  
“Um, thanks.” Kaz scratched the back of his head. Tap’s compliments could be so weird at times. “But, it would’ve been kinda boring for everyone if I’d just stayed like that, don’tcha think?”  
  
“Are you going off on one of Mr. Yazstromo’s story talks?” Tap tilted her head.  
  
“What?” Kaz laughed. “That prophet’s a madman. I think he has too many screws loose to know what’s up and down or left and right or whatever.”  
  
She laughed. He was happy he could still make her do that. “Kaz,” he sighed at the serious note in her voice. “If I said I would go with you…”  
  
He shook his head. “I’d leave you behind once it was safe, couldn’t let anything happen ta ya, you know?”  
  
“Hmm, you’re so nice.” Tap giggled and leaned. Kaz was afraid that she might fall off her horse if she leaned any closer and pushed her back. She gave him a bewildered expression, but he smiled.  
  
“Remember when I said I loved you?” Kaz asked.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I was being a complete dummy when I said that piece of crap.” The Innocent backed away. “I’m sorry Tap, but that’s not the kind of good bye I can give you.”  
  
“Not even this once?”  
  
Kaz looked her squarely in the eye. “Not ever again, I’m sorry for making you think like that.” He bent down awkwardly and kissed her hand. “I’ll see ya around, Tap.” He kicked the bay’s sides and the horse galloped away. Kaz did not want her to know that all he had just told her was a lie, because the Innocent did not deserve one like him. She needed a better man, and as he looked at the horizon, he decided that was what he would become, that man worthy of the Innocence’s love.


	31. Epilogue: Tap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Original notes:  
On behalf of Blue55, I am posting her character Epilogue.
> 
> Epilogue: Tap

After the defeat of Arivis, there was much work to be done in the restoration of Hyrule. Prisoners that had been held captive were released, and, slowly, word of Hyrule’s newfound freedom spread, encouraging those that had once lived in the prosperous country of Hyrule to return back to their now broken homeland. They would help rebuild it.

Wanting to help the lost citizens out, Tap had decided to stay behind and help reconstruct the layout of the land. Villages and homes had been badly burnt to rubble, no doubt due to the power of the Staff of Suns. The castle, once the most monumental of the territory, had been reduced to mere debris after the struggle with the demon, barely holding itself up; the whole citadel needed to be torn down and reconstructed again, this time with stronger, sturdier material. Tap helped start an organization of people who were willing to help bring Hyrule to its former glory, and gradually, after years passed, the fortress and villages were rebuilt, a monarchy re-established, though the new Hyrule would never replace the old one. Too much had happened for that.

It was then that Tap remembered an old friend.

Hurrying back to far eastern Kakariko, she discovered the torn down and charred remains of what used to be a house, only the roof and lumbers of wood lay scattered about in the dead brown grass; whether her friend had escaped or been killed remained unknown, and after seeing the worst, she wasn’t so sure if she could believe her friend had managed to flee and stay alive.

Deeply angered, she whipped out her blade and began to pour out her entire life’s frustration with a slash of a tree or a bush or anything else she could get her hands on, and to an observing bystander it would’ve appeared as if she’d gone mad, though really, who could blame her? Exhaustion finally set in after the murder of nature, and she passed out right then and there.

She was dragged out of sleep by a hand on her shoulder shaking her awake. She mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, an uncomfortable thing to do as the place was surrounded with sharp twigs and gravel, but what did it matter? The hand seemed to shake her more violently now, a sense of urgency in it, and this time hauled her to her tired feet. Exasperated and a little dazed, she looked in front of her to see who’d dared bother her. It was then that she saw she was surrounded by a group of four or five men and women, all of whom held a crossbow in their hand. Tap did her best to look dangerous in this sudden moment of urgency, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes, as she demanded to know what they wanted.

The man cloaked in blue silently pointed behind her at the colossal bear lumbering straight for her and only her.

In a split second, a single arrow stopped the animal in its tracks. The group of mysterious, bow-wielding people turned to the arrow’s owner in surprise, and saw a frazzled wide-eyed Tap, a dead iron grip on the glass bow she’d decided to keep and five inches away from a mental break down if someone didn’t offer her food and a bed to sleep in within the next ten seconds. The people that were once surrounding her were now ushering her into a cabin a little further from where she’d stood before. After allowing her to rest up a bit, the one who was cloaked in blue (she was later told that his name was Darren and he was the leader of the group) went up to her and insisted she join their small but purposeful organization dedicated to keeping the bandits and vagabonds that were starting to overrun and terrorize Hyrule at bay. Having nowhere else to go, really, she agreed on one condition-that she get to have an awesome crossbow as well.

The deal was made. Tap now spent her time chasing down miscreants, both foreign and local. The pay was good, and she was able to do folks a favour, although they did more work anonymously rather than boasting. After a successful day, they would hang out by Lake Hylia, its sparkling radiance no longer tainted by the hands of Arivis. Each would discuss their triumph of the day, and occasionally they would splash around near the edge of the lake, like carefree children.

Now and then, however, her thoughts would float back to memories spent with her former comrades, and she would wonder what they were all up to, and if they were doing alright. She wondered about Mervil, and how he’d suddenly disappeared on them, right after Arivis had been bested. Was it just her, or had he seemed…empty? And now that she really thought about it, her memory recalls appeared to happen whenever she was close by him. Did he somehow unknowingly trigger something inside her?

Samir, a fellow group member and close friend, caught her deep in thought one evening while the others were messing around in the sand. She asked her if she was alright, and after a moment of hesitation, told her about her old companions. She told her about Naomi, the Rito that flew with amazing grace, Yazstromo, the crazy old cutlery obsessed oddball, and Kaz, the ex-bandit who had left them all so suddenly. She told him about Mervil.

After listening to Tap ramble on for a while, she asked her if she wanted to go after this Mervil and get some answers. Tap thought about this. She knew he’d probably be angry if she saw him again. He specifically said he hoped he didn’t see them anymore, after all. But she had questions, and he probably had answers. She could at least try.

Later that night, she told Darren she was going. Upset, Darren questioned her motives, but Tap only shook her head and said she had something important to do. After a few more attempts to keep their best archer in the group, he finally allowed for her leave. Only she had to give back the expensive crossbow.

Cursing, Tap started to hand over the bow. Darren claimed he was only kidding and let her keep it as a gift “out of the goodness of his heart.” He gave her a friendly hug. When Tap pulled away, she was surprised to see a silver whistle around her neck. She looked up at Darren in question, who in turn replied, “It’s for if you ever need our help. Just whistle and we’ll come. …Provided we can hear it, of course.” Tap smiled and thanked him. Then bringing along her beat up rucksack, she was on her way. Just like old times.

It had felt like forever.


	32. Epilogue: The Deku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Deku Lord

The Deku stood in the lone potion shop on the outskirts of Symmetry City, waiting impatiently for the old man to understand what exactly he wanted made.  
  
“No, no, I don't need a Razzle-Dazzle potion, because, as you seem to have forgotten, _I don't have a hangover_.”  
  
“Well, “ the man violently coughed, spitting up some blood, but continued, “I don't make what you're looking for. I'm not even sure it's possible to fuse a magical artifact with one's own soul, or even if a potion is the way to go about doing it. Now, wou-”  
  
“Have you ever tried?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Here,” the Deku said, slipping a red pendant and five silver rupees from under his cloak and on to the table, “this is the Pendant of Power. Experiment with it, and use it on yourself. If you manage to find a potion that works the way I'd like, then by that concept fusing this with your own soul should relieve that nasty cough of yours. Just a small chip should do the trick.”  
  
The man was clearly stunned, but quickly regained what little he could keep on top of his illness. Why should he trust this bush-man anyway? It wasn't like he'd known him for years. He coughed again, this time spitting out a tooth with some of the blood. After taking a drink of his red potion, he decided it couldn't hurt to try. He looked up at the Deku to accept the offer, but found that he was already striding out the door.  
  
“Overconfident sonofabitch.”  
  
* * *  
  
Exactly an hour later, the door to the shop reopened, and the shop keeper looked up expectantly. Seeing that it was indeed his strange, wooden customer, he decided he'd try to get him back for so rudely leaving an hour earlier.  
  
“What took you so long?”  
  
“I tend to allow more time for illiterate shopkeepers to work.”  
  
“Well..” he started off on a retort, but instead decided to get down to business. “I've done what you requested, but I can't say your pendant is in great shape. It took 43 attempts to make the right mixture, but as you'll notice, I'm perfectly alright. I guess you want one of these now?”  
  
“No. I need to fuse a different magical object; the pendant is yours.”  
  
“Well, I must warn you, I've not experimented with more than one magical object in a potion yet. What made it hard to try that was your not giving me a second object.  
  
“The soul can only be altered one way. If I were to try to use two of these potions, well.. we'll just say it's not a 'pretty' sight. What I need, in fact, is for you to make this object into a potion for me.”  
“Fifteen minutes.”  
  
* * *  
  
Upon the Deku Lord's return, there was upon the counter a flask containing an acidic-looking green liquid, and beside the container was the crystal with a small chip out of it. Figuring he knew what had transpired, he peered behind the counter to find the body of the shopkeeper, lying about in thirty or forty small, horribly deformed chunks amid shards of glass. He added the seed to the flask, whereupon it sizzled and turned to a smoky red colour.  
  
He stepped outside, moving toward the newly opened portal to his homeland. What did that crazy shopkeeper think it had taken a full hour to do, anyway? It wasn't as though Symmetry City was interesting, everybody there was _nuts_. He laughed. What a terrible joke. Just before stepping into the portal, however, he decided he would go through with his previous plans, and walked over to one of the older looking trees.  
  
“I need you to send a message to Mervil.”  
  
“The one we've heard so much about from the Hyrulean trees?”  
  
“Yes. Tell him this exactly...”  
  
Having given the formal message and it's intended recipient to his most trusted colleagues, the Deku raised the flask to his lips, drained the noxious liquid into his throat and, casting it aside, stepped forth into the portal.  
  
“Goodbye, Hyrule.”


	33. Epilogue: Galysses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Epilogue: Galysses

An impenetrable darkness spread out in every direction at that one moment. It had been a very long time since then; the flash leading to the pain, leading to _this_ existence. But he only just became aware of it. He wanted to scream, only to realize he could not for he had no mouth, only his mind called for an unfathomable salvation and nothing else. He knew he had to be dead; nothing else could be so cold and unforgiving.  
  
Then why was he aware? Perhaps that was such a fate for the undead when they met their ironic end. If he knew this was how it would be when he made the choice, a damnable death, he certainly would have reconsidered. It felt like he was suffocating under a physical and emotional weight, the events of that night caused his consciousness to flee to this location, wherever that may have been. How bizarre it was of a transition, his emotions fuelled in rage and suddenly stripped to outright fear, frustration, and confusion.  
  
Was he alive, dead, or in between? His thoughts began to fade away from his current state, his over whelming dread. Instead he thought of brighter days, his family, his friends, his adventures. If this was his eternity in purgatory, he would have enjoyed it far more if the world he had left hadn’t changed his heart and made him finally understand life. Railin had taught him that so well in their short time. The thief slid down the castle walls leaving a blackened trail of blood, Arivis laughing as he went.  
  
Galysses could feel his anger spike at the memory and he tried to thrash about to no avail. He had to be dead; this had to be the hell he was condemned to for choosing the fate of a Stalfos. His screaming for salvation muted out into abhorrent cries for mercy. And as if the call was heard by the divine, his vision was suddenly filled with spectra of light and an upheaval of his resting place. He could feel his body again; he could clench his fingers together, feeling dirt run between his bones.  
  
The haze that surrounded his condition lifted as the various lights attached to his body, giving him a faint blue glow. They had buried him like they would any friend, the touching thought was immediately removed by the loud laugh escaping his reshaping skull, the tiny fragments piecing together once again. He was sure that it had been the end.  
  
Fresh air began to leak in, the faint rays of dawn refracting in falling dew and soil. By his own accord, the Stalfos pounded through the final layer of his grave, being blasted by a heavy morning breeze. His raucous voice echoed throughout the cemetery as he gave his victorious cry, expecting to see his friends above him having discovered some way to bring him back. Standing tall and circling around, he saw no one besides a lone raven a few feet away, staring at him cautiously. It turned its head to the side as if to address him for a moment and returned to pecking at the ground, pulling up one of Allanon’s necklaces from the pile it had collected. A faint glimmer seemed to protrude from the hanging stone before it returned to a black and lifeless state.  
  
He watched the black bird stretch its wings to defend its newfound treasures. Galysses turned from it, trying to take in how he was here and why no one else was there to welcome him back. But who he wanted to talk to most rested eternally in the ground to his side. He held up his hand to his skull to find a small hole where fragments were vacant, lost among the grasses of the Castle Courtyard far in the distance. Attempts to fully reflect were lost; he could feel his strength slowly fading at his lonely stature and disfigured form. His ribcage was still shattered with the bones floating in their original locations, smaller pieces lost to the wilds; the wind flowed through him, slowly ebbing away his short-lived vigour. Turning away from his only companion, Galysses knelt down to his headstone, reading aloud his name, the only engraving among the rose beneath it. He must have missed the pleasantries of their words to mark the rest of his memory.  
  
Suddenly the raven squawked at him, drawing him back to its direction. Was it just his imagination, or did the feathery bastards always take a dislike to him? Its beady eyes observed him in the same state as before, until it finally made its full appraisal. Taking flight, links and twine of its collection hanging from its dark beak, their stones catching small glimpses of the rising sun, it fluttered out of the surrounding walls.  
  
Somewhere nearby, the Sanctuary bells tolled, welcoming Galysses back to the world. The raven was gone before he had a chance to look back up. How long had it been?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossposter notes: There was one last post after this with ZE thanking the readers and all, but the word count was too much for this small space. Instead, please take this [link](http://www.acgventcast.ca/forum/viewtopic.php?f=12&t=2030&sid=c61ae1896bb2c6b5fe087b4c6d1d2f95&start=15) or the condensed version below.  
+  
And so after a grand adventure of 2 Years, 2 Months, 3 Days, and 8 Hours in the public eye, ~Forever Forgotten~ A Tale of Scorned Souls has finally ended. This is a message to all the writers and the readers that have stuck around since the beginning or tagged along ever since you were so nicely convinced to read it on my behalf :p. I never imagined that the day would come when I could finally state that the story was finished and we were actually going through with a sequel. I can't say I held much hope in the beginning, and especially in long slumps of either waiting for the next writer to complete or for that small ounce of inspiration to hit them (yes, I know, this is pretty much all applied to me).
> 
> But hey, we're here now, so I have no complaints.
> 
> [How FF got started and to this point.]
> 
> Despite ups and downs with direction, such as writing silly additions to a 'serious' story, the project in my eyes was a success. People enjoyed writing (I think) and people enjoyed reading (I hope) over these last couple of years. I want to thank those that made this possible and who worked with me as equals and nothing less. We've done something that I imagine has been done before, but we accomplished the same feat. A total of seven people came together to write a story in our spare time for only a select few to read and enjoy, and damn it all and despite our setbacks, we did it.
> 
> [Messages to the other writers.]
> 
> To all of you readers, I'm happy you've taken the time to go through this 120 000 word story we put together for yours and our entertainment. If not for you I would not have had the drive to continue with FF1 and certainly not continue with To Dust. Although I did con some of you into it, you can't blame me for making you read it all :p. Now tell all your cool friends how they can get more rad by reading this story. I give my gratitudes to you all. DP [another forum member], read!
> 
> To all of you new writers, welcome to the family. I don't have a name for our team yet, but I have all of To Dust and all of FF3 to be able to devise that sucker. I hope you all enjoy yourselves as we move along and I certainly hope you understand why this is such a fulfilling experience. At times you won't want to write, times you'll think what you've done is complete garbage, I only have one thing to say to that: this isn't a competition, do what you can and do your best, you're here because I want to see what you can bring to the table in terms of ideas rather than skills. I'm certain none of you will fall short of that. It'll be quite a ride and hopefully in another two years I can be doing this exact same thing for all of you. Unless I've died. Which would be quite the unfortunate event. I think :P.
> 
> All in all, the final verdict is that this part of EDN's life is done. Forever Forgotten has been penned with pixels and typing power for all the 'world' to enjoy. Yet, as it has aged in its earlier segments and hasn't received a textual overhaul, one could say it has yet to be completed. Which, those people could be quite right. It is my intention to go through the older sections and parts and edit them, bring them up to par with what was being produced when this story came to a close by those same authors. If necessary (and with permission) certain parts may be edited or rewritten as I go along, it will be a long process, but a rewarding one I'm sure.
> 
> I hope none of you would be surprised if I were ever to mention that my plan to make a 'ZE-ful' version of the story, with the characters introduced by my fellow writers, is still being considered. Heck, someday you might even see it completed. And none of you would read it :p.
> 
> Without you all helping me, the readers and the authors by my side, this story simply wouldn't and would never exist. Your characters brought it to literary life and accomplished everything I was unable to do by myself. As much as some of you assert that it is 'my' story, I beg to differ. A Tale of Scorned Souls came about because of every single one of us, and I wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
